If You Only Knew
by CynicalRomantic09
Summary: Harry's life is anything but normal. Six years after the defeat of Voldemort, he's living in New York with no intentions of going home. But sometimes, life can throw you unexpected curveballs. And Harry's life does just that. Harry/Hermione.
1. Chapter 1

_Full Summary:_

The Golden Trio's relationship turns to ruins about a year after the downfall of Voldemort. Suddenly, they aren't so Golden anymore. Betrayals ensue, lies are told, and friendships once thought to be unbreakable are broken.

Five years later, though, the peace restored to the wizarding communities is being threatened. Muggles are being killed and raising interest with both world's press. Now, as the head of a team of Aurors in New York and after five years of hiding, Harry must return to the one place he swore he'd never go back to.

But if he thought things would remain the same in his absence, he was wrong . . .

* * *

"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 1

* * *

Miles from home, a man named Harry Potter woke with a start. When he opened his eyes, he half expected to be at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, or his old apartment, but, much to his surprising disappointment, he was not.

No.

He was in New York City, hiding from the wizarding world in England, from his friends, his family.

As his hands groped about the nightstand for his loathsome glasses, his mind unwillingly thought about what had woken him up and left him in such a state of disarray.

Taking a deep breath, he sat up in bed and tried calming himself, as he was shaking a bit. While he lied with his head against the headboard, he felt a small trickle of sweat trailing down his cheek and promptly used his hand to wipe his face.

He had been dreaming. Well, more like having a nightmare. Which was odd, since he hadn't had one in such a long time.

At first, after the initial defeat of Voldemort, the dreams had been his only true companion for quite some time. But, eventually, and miraculously, those dreams, those nightmares had stopped. Why, he didn't know, but who was he to question such a stroke of luck?

So he couldn't fathom what had triggered the nightmare again.

The nightmare was always the same—blackness. Nothingness. He was walking around in utter darkness, unable to find a single source of light or happiness. Loneliness welcomed him with open arms and left his heart heavy. There was no one. Only himself. He shivered and dared not to think of the possibilities of the return of his nightmare.

He was positive that it sounded absolutely silly that nothing terrified him, but it was his most prevalent fear since he killed Voldemort. There was nothing for him back in England and his vivid nightmares had only confirmed his thoughts. All that greeted him was a bleak, terrifying abyss. He was alone with none of his friends or family nearby. The only positive thing he had going for him was Teddy and he wouldn't trade his godson for anything.

Harry knew it was wrong to just take off with him, but legally, Teddy was his. Documents were signed and everything and he wasn't about to abandon his godson. Besides, Ron knew he had him and that he was safe. After their fight, he'd informed his best mate that he'd had enough and he was taking Teddy with him. He could only hope the youngest male Weasley had relayed that information to everyone else.

As his thoughts drifted, time seemed to get away from him. He wasn't aware how long he had been lying there, staring blankly at his ceiling, nor did he care. But, he did have work in the morning and knew full well that he needed to at least try to not look like a zombie when he showed up at the office. So, he removed his glasses, set them in their rightful place on his nightstand, and tried to force himself to go back to sleep. His attempts, however, were in vain. Any time he ever had one of his nightmares, he tossed and turned for hours and ended up feeling more tired than ever.

Consequently, after about a half hour of doing the very thing he knew would happen, he decided to give up on any chance of sleep and reluctantly threw his covers off of him.

"Uncle Harry?" a small voice called from the doorway.

Shifting in his bed, he turned to find Teddy clutching his favorite stuffed animal. Harry once again grabbed his glasses and motioned for his godson to come in. "What's up, buddy?"

"I'm hungry."

Harry chuckled and ruffled the child's hair. This kid was _always _hungry, yet he was as lanky as Harry had been in his childhood. "Okay. Give me a minute and I'll be in the kitchen, all right?"

"'Kay."

The sound of small feet padding across the carpet put a smile on his face. He'd imagine Teddy was already climbing his favorite barstool and swinging his tiny legs back and forth.

He sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair before gracefully sliding out of his bed and mindlessly shuffling across the room to make his way to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. When he had first traveled to the States he had detested the stuff, but now his body refused to function properly in its absence. It was like an addiction to him.

When he got to the kitchen, a smile tugged at his lips as his godson was doing the very thing he predicted. He allowed himself a moment to just watch him and enjoy his presence. He honestly didn't know what he would do without that little kid right there. It was so strange that a mere child of six could hold a grown man together. It wasn't as though he were completely miserable, quite the opposite actually. He'd grown to be rather happy in New York. But Teddy was the golden ray of light in his life, as corny as it sounded.

"All right, pal. What do you want for breakfast?" he asked as he got the coffee filters from his cabinet.

He asked the question without really needing to. He already knew what the answer was going to be. It was the same every morning. The boy wanted nothing but pancakes for breakfast and if it weren't for the babysitter he'd hired, he would have been in big trouble because he'd had no clue how to make the things.

And sure enough, Teddy didn't fail to disappoint. "Pancakes," he answered, as his legs were still swinging wildly to-and-fro.

Harry laughed, but as he grabbed the pancake mix and peered inside the box, his laughter fell short. He put the box down and raided the cabinets for an emergency back-up box that he always kept, but found nothing. "Crap. Okay, we're going to need a backup choice, Ted. Are scrambled eggs okay?"

"I like scrambled eggs."

"Is that a yes then?"

Teddy vigorously shook his head up and down to confirm his 'yes' answer and Harry grinned at him and ruffled his hair. It was times like these that he was thankful Teddy was a relatively low-maintenance kid.

Before he got to work on Ted's breakfast, he started the coffee and allowed himself a minute smile as the smell wafted through his nostrils, instantly giving him a small nudge awake.

The scrambled eggs took no time at all to make and after they both had their breakfast, Teddy asked if he could go watch Spongebob Squarepants, and while Harry hated that show with every fiber of his being, it was his godson's favorite thing to watch in the morning, and Harry had a very hard time telling him no when it came to inconsequential stuff like that.

He got the television set up and while Teddy was watching that God-awful excuse for a cartoon, he walked over to his mail and began sorting through it. He had been too tired last night to actually go through any of it, so he decided he might as well use this time to see if he had anything worth opening.

"Junk, junk, more junk," he mumbled. Most of it was credit card applications and magazine subscriptions, none of which he wanted. Just as he was getting ready to toss the lot of mail into his trash bin, his eyes widened at a return address. "You've got to be kidding me."

After much internal debate as to whether or not he should even open the blasted letter, his curiosity got the better of him, as it often did, and he finally tore the damn thing open. He held his breath in anticipation as he began to read:

_Harry,_

_I know it's been a while since we saw each other last, but since you gave me your address while Vernon and I were in New York, I decided to use it. I know you probably didn't think I'd keep it, so this is most likely a bit shocking to you. Anyway, I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for protecting my family. I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you for putting aside whatever ill feelings you had towards us and looking out for us. If there is ever anything you need, I'll do what I can for you. _

_Dudley wanted me to say thank you for him as well. _

_Hope you are well._

_Petunia Dursley_

_P.S. Please don't worry about yours and Teddy's location disclosure. Your secret is safe with me._

Harry openly gaped at the letter.

When he had run into his aunt and uncle about six months ago in the city, he had been absolutely certain that nothing had changed. Thankfully, Teddy had been at the babysitter's and hadn't been exposed to his only relatives. The pair of them looked as cross as ever, so, imagine Harry's surprise when his aunt, who had been no better than his uncle as far as treatment of him went, greeted Harry in a civil and almost—_almost—_pleasant demeanor. She had commented on his still unkempt hair and Harry had honestly been surprised that she hadn't offered up further, or worse for that matter, criticism.

It was his Uncle Vernon who had delivered in fine fashion, adhering to Harry's expectations. Snobbishly, and rather rudely Harry might add, Vernon Dursley peered down his nose at Harry and examined him as though he were a bug that he desired to squash. His uncle then proceeded to ask Harry what he was doing in the United States, in New York City no less, and questioned him on his finances. Clearly he still believed Harry to be dirt poor.

Harry merely smiled at his uncle, letting the blatant insult roll off his back and said, "I live here now. New York is my home. As for my finances, Vernon, I can assure you that what you make in a year is like pocket change to me."

Vernon had turned beat red and started to retort when his Aunt Petunia nudged her overly large husband and gave him a stern look that Harry often remembered her lavishing Dudley with. Apparently, it had the same affect on overgrown men.

Instead of allowing things to become increasingly awkward, she had actually asked how he was adjusting to American life, looking genuinely interested in his answer. Upon taking the time to explain things, Harry had watched in unabashed amusement as his uncle had huffed and puffed, reminding Harry of an angry, raging bull with smoke coming out of its nostrils as it scratched the ground below with its hoofs. When he had began mumbling under his breath, she had actually told his uncle to be quiet. It was all Harry could do to keep himself from laughing out loud.

The small act of kindness from his aunt had thrown Harry into a state of temporary insanity and he had stupidly offered his contact information to her. But, in all fairness he had never believed she would actually keep it, much less _use_ it.

"Huh," he muttered.

That was definitely a blast from the past and one that he'd rather not revisit. His time with his aunt and uncle hadn't exactly been ideal, so he wasn't too keen on reconnecting with them.

But as much as the offer shocked him, and even flattered him, there was no way in hell he'd ever go to the Dursleys for anything. Not ever.

Nope. Hell would freeze over first.

He wished them well, he did. He harbored no resentment anymore. It was a long time ago and it was in the past. But just because he had learned to let go of his distaste and any bad blood between his only living relatives, did not mean that he had chosen to take a liking to them.

However, since his Aunt Petunia had taken the time to write him, he supposed it was only fair that he do the same. After much debate of using the typical wizarding mailing system, he had finally resolved that he would use the muggle mail system. He couldn't help the smirk forming on his face, though. He could only imagine his Uncle Vernon's face if he saw an owl dropping off a letter to their house after all these years.

_Aunt Petunia,_

_Thanks for the letter. You were right—I was shocked, but I'm glad you wrote. Please, think nothing of it. You were my mum's sister and the only family I have left; of course I would keep you lot safe, even if you were a pain most of the time. And I'm just fine, thanks. Work is a bit crazy at the moment, so I'm surprised I even have time to write this letter. Anyway, tell Dudley I say hello._

_Hope everything is okay on your end as well. _

_Harry_

He briefly scanned the letter once more before sealing it into an envelope and addressing it. Harry still couldn't quite believe that he had heard from his aunt. It made him wonder how others were doing . . .

He shook his head and pushed that line of thinking out of his mind. He had not thought about his life in England for years, with the brief exception of the time he had run into his aunt and uncle, and he wasn't about to start now. When he had brought Teddy to New York with him, he'd vowed to put his past behind him and try and move on. And he thought he'd done a pretty damn good job of it, too, and he wasn't going to let that get turned upside down. Not just because of one stupid letter from an aunt that he had barely spoken to when they had lived together.

So, he quickly busied himself so his mind _couldn't_ wander there again. That part of his life was over. He had made sure of it. There was only one person from his life in England that knew where he was and Harry trusted him completely. As a matter of fact, that person, Oliver Wood, was living in New York as well. He'd resigned from his position with Puddlemere United and went into training to become an Auror. His schooling and experience in the war had proved to be more than adequate to gain acceptance for the training and Harry couldn't be happier about that fact. They both worked together and had reacquainted themselves almost instantly. Oliver was much more pleasant to be around since he was no longer his captain and he always gushed over Teddy, especially when he'd been just a baby. The pair got on tremendously and Oliver often informed Harry of how glad he was that Teddy was in New York with them.

"Uncle Harry, can I have another glass of milk, please?" Teddy inquired without looking away from the television.

"Sure thing, buddy. Why don't you pause Spongebob and come in the kitchen, yeah?"

Harry chuckled when he heard grumbling coming from the living room but, unsurprisingly, his godson complied and promptly shuffled over to the kitchen and climbed up his barstool while Harry poured the drink.

He was quite thankful for the distraction Teddy had just provided, as his thoughts were running a little ramped at the moment and he always liked to busy himself when he became too lost in his own head. While he was up, he took the opportunity to pour himself another cup of coffee and then sat down on a barstool as he began reading the paper.

As he was flipping through the pages, a small article caught his eye and he could feel his eyes narrowing as he read:

**Unsolved Murder in Queens:**

_Early last Tuesday at approximately 5:30 A.M., law officials entered the home of reporter Danielle Morrison to find her deceased after receiving a 911-phone call from her. She claimed that someone was in her house, but when police arrived, they found no signs of forced entry and Ms. Morrison's door was tightly locked up. Stranger still, when officials found her body, they found nothing _physically_ wrong with her. It was as though she had just decided to die of her own accord with her eyes frozen in terror. Police are asking . . . _

Harry trailed off, not needing to read the article any longer. He had a pretty decent idea of who killed that muggle reporter. Maybe he didn't have an exact name, but he at least knew the cause of her death. But what he didn't know was _why_. He had had many encounters with this muggle woman; she had been downright nosy to be perfectly honest. She had actually trailed Harry a couple of times and he had to modify her memory more times than he cared to count. The only thing he could think of that could have gone wrong was that she had just started to trail the wrong wizard, obviously a wizard that had no qualms using the killing curse.

A surge of guilt washed over him. Maybe if he had taken the time to protect her like his gut had told him to, she wouldn't have gotten herself killed. He had known that she was digging into his world—trying to discover the truth that magic was real, that there was another world that her kind did not know about. He had actually kept a close watch on her for a period of time, but then his life had taken a crazy turn and things had gotten so hectic that he had completely forgotten about this woman.

He angrily threw the paper on the counter and rubbed his face tiredly, dejectedly. He should have done more.

"Potter," a voice said, coming out of nowhere.

He glanced over at the fireplace to see Oliver Wood, the only link to his past in England, talking through the flames. "What did you need, Wood?" he asked as he walked over.

"Good morning to you, too."

"The point Oliver? Some time today, please," he said moodily.

"Fine, fine. Don't get your knickers in a bunch. First things first—where is my favorite six-year old?"

Right on cue, Teddy came barreling over to the fireplace and gave Oliver a wide, toothy grin. "Oliver!"

"Mornin' pal. Are you behaving this morning for your Uncle Harry?" He nodded enthusiastically and Oliver scoffed. "Shame on you. You remember what we talked about, right?"

"Very funny, Wood," Harry said, unable to stop the twitch in his lips. He placed his hand on Teddy's head and moved the child in question behind him. "Say goodbye to Oliver and go get dressed, all right? I have to drop you off at Nanny Kate's."

The small boy's shoulder's sagged in disappointment and he looked positively glum. It wasn't that he disliked the nanny, he just hated having his 'Oliver-time', as Oliver had apparently deemed it, interrupted. "Fine. Bye Oliver."

"Hey, chin up kiddo. When I get some time off work, I promise it'll be just you and me for a whole weekend. How's that sound?"

"Promise?"

"Well, I'd pinky swear it if I could, but seeing as I'm talking to you through a fireplace right now, that's not exactly going to work. We'll do a hypothetical pinky swear and we'll chalk it up to a real one, how's that sound?"

Teddy grinned once more and held his pinky as though he were linking it with Oliver's and then trotted off to his room.

"A whole weekend?" Harry asked with an amused twinkle to his eyes. "You're sure about this?"

"I've done it before," he said somewhat defensively.

"Yeah, but that was when he was a baby. He will wear you out faster than you can blink. Sometimes I come home to find Kate ready to box his ears because he's so rambunctious."

"Speaking of, when are you going to ask that woman out on a date? It's so obvious she's into you."

"Uh, how 'bout never?"

"But—"

"Never. Moving on please. Now why did you ruin my perfectly calm morning and pop your head into my fireplace?"

"Fine, then. Killjoy," he mumbled. "McLaughlin wants you at the office ASAP. There's been some activity—"

Harry sighed and nodded. "Morrison, right?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"It was in the _Times_," he said sullenly.

Oliver made a sound of distaste. "You actually read that rubbish?"

"Rubbish? I believe it managed to report the death of Morrison quite accurately, did it not?" He smirked as Oliver scowled. His former team captain truly despised muggle newspapers for some reason. "Besides, I _am_ living in a muggle flat, which means there are muggle neighbors to contend with, which means that I—"

"All right, all right. I get it. Anyway, get your scrawny arse to the office, got it?"

Harry quirked an eyebrow and couldn't suppress a grin. "Scrawny? Who kicked your sorry butt the last time—?"

"Whatever," Oliver mumbled. Wood never had been able to accept defeat easily. "See you at the office, Potter."

And then, his face was gone. There was just a fireplace that Harry was left staring at, grinning widely.

He quickly retreated to his own bedroom and changed, and then replaced his glasses with his contacts before heading to Teddy's room.

Thankfully, the young boy was dressed and ready to go with his backpack in tow, no doubt filled with all of his favorite toys and movies. "You ready to go, buddy?"

"Yep."

Conveniently enough, Kate's place was right across from theirs, so they didn't have very far to go. She was a witch herself, which was yet another convenient source of help. She had been one of the first people Harry met in his flat and she was very friendly and offered immediate assistance when she discovered that Harry had Teddy in his life. Instantly, they became good friends and while she was often curious as to what had happened in his past, she never pried and for that reason, Harry eventually broke down and told her everything one night when he drank himself into oblivion.

He knocked on her door and seconds later Kate greeted them looking rather put out. The first thing Harry did was try to pick his jaw up off the ground. The second thing he did was try not to laugh. She must have noticed because she scowled. "Not one word out of you, Potter. Is that quite clear?"

He would have been fine had it not been for Teddy, who exclaimed, "Ew, Nanny Kate, what's wrong with your hair?"

A burst of laughter escaped Harry's throat and he was soon doubled over at the waist, having trouble breathing. Kate's hair was a royal mess. It looked like a dye job gone horribly wrong. The normal auburn color was now a cross between burnt orange and a dull yellow. He wasn't quite sure what she could have possibly done, but it looked awful.

Harry finally looked up from the ground, still chortling, and saw that Kate was beyond annoyed and he suddenly began fearing for his life. She smiled sweetly at Teddy, ignoring his hair comment and said, "Sweetheart, why don't you go inside and get all of your toys set up, all right? Maybe later we can bake something together."

Teddy merely shrugged and started to go inside when Harry stopped him. "Hey! No goodbye hug for your uncle?" His godson came back over right as Harry crouched down beside him. "I'll swing by to get you as soon as I can, buddy."

"'Kay," he said as squeezed passed Kate and ran over to her living room to dump his toys out of his bag. He heard Kate chuckle at his antics but when he looked up at her, she was frowning at him.

"I thought I said not one word from you, Potter."

He smiled cheekily and folded his arms. "You did, but you said nothing about laughing."

"Bastard," she mumbled under her breath.

His grin widened and he kissed her on the cheek, as was customary between them and strictly platonic despite Oliver's claims, as he prepared to leave. "I'll be back after work. And have you forgotten you're a witch? Fix your hair, Nanny Kate. It looks awful." Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed that she got her wand out, probably to hex him. But he was faster than her as he grabbed his own wand and apparated into the office, however he still preferred flying, truthfully. Much as he didn't like to admit it though, apparating _was_ faster and far more convenient.

As he was walking through the halls of the office, he couldn't help but think how much things had changed since he left England. When he had first moved to the States, he had been wary of doing anything that involved magic. But when he had finally come across some American wizards, the first one being Kate, he had realized that his name had made no difference to them. They had known his story, of course, but he hadn't been treated the same as he had been in England and he had been thrilled.

So he quickly accepted a job offer to work for the American Aurors and he loved his job. He couldn't imagine returning to a muggle lifestyle and was thankful for his choice of location. His team of Aurors rarely dealt with foreign affairs. He had asked specifically to be placed on a team that would remain in the States, so he never had to worry about running into old acquaintances while on the job and so he wouldn't be far away from Teddy.

He was head of the team, and, after much teasing and goading from his former school mate, Wood had finally let it go and accepted that he was now receiving the orders instead of giving them. At first, people had been reluctant follow someone younger than them with less professional training, but when they had actually seen him in action and had heard Wood's accounts of his numerous battles, they had eventually forfeited any reservations they had had and fell in line brilliantly. Their team had such a cohesive flow that Harry couldn't fathom working with a different one.

"Potter!"

Harry jumped at the sudden disturbance of his thoughts and turned to see his boss, Jerry McLaughlin, standing behind him with a less than pleased look on his face. The balding, aging man motioned for Harry to follow him. Inwardly, Harry groaned. He knew that look all too well and knew what was coming.

And what was coming was likely a week's worth of no sleep. Just perfect.

"My office, now."

And without another word, Jerry retreated back the way he came, leaving Harry pondering what could be so important that had his boss acting this way. Jerry was one of the most laid back people he had ever come across, so it was startling to Harry that his superior was so tense at the moment. It was just one muggle reporter. Right?

After Harry practically jogged to catch up to Jerry, his boss motioned for him to close the door and come in. "Have a seat," he said as he motioned towards the chair.

His nerves got the better of him and any time he got nervous, he had a hard time sitting down. "I think I'll stand, if that's okay."

"Do whatever you like. Just don't pace."

"Right," he said with a nod.

To keep himself from doing the one thing he was ordered not to do, he leaned against the wall and crossed his feet at the ankles and his arms. "So what's up, Jerry?"

He sighed and ran a tired hand through his hair. "There's been some . . . activity."

A confused look graced Harry's features as he crinkled his nose. "That muggle reporter, Morrison? I know—" he abruptly stopped when Jerry started shaking his head.

"Not just her. That's why I called you in here. Look, the rest of the team is unaware of this information. I wanted you to be the first to know." Jerry leaned across his desk and began whispering, as if he were telling Harry a secret. "It was not just Morrison that was discovered. There have been others that have had distinct characteristics of the Killing Curse, but it's all been hushed up. We have an inside man at one of the muggle police departments and he's informed the chief of what's going on. Well, vaguely. The chief is on a strictly need-to-know basis," he said with a grim look on his face.

"Who are the others?"

"There have been three. One was a man by the name of Tony Moore, he was a detective for the NYPD—that one was, understandably, a little more difficult to keep quiet. There was quite a big fuss about it, actually. Anyway, the next two were much easier to keep under wraps. The next was Patricia LeBelle, a sous chef at one of the restaurants in Manhattan. And finally, the last one, until Morrison was found, was Mark Gomez from one of the accounting firms in downtown Brooklyn."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and scowled. "But what's the connection here? Aside from the fact that the same thing killed all of them, I mean. There's usually some kind of connection, right?"

"That's the thing, Harry. We don't know. All we know is that there is a witch or wizard out there who is starting to raise suspicion _and _a body count. That's four people in the last five months and no leads."

"None at all?" Harry asked glumly. That wasn't good. Usually they had at least _something_ to go on.

But when Jerry hesitated, Harry felt hopeful. He knew his boss well enough to know when he wasn't being completely honest. "Come on Jerry, what's going on? What do you know that you don't want to tell me?"

"There is one person we have in mind. He escaped from Azkaban when all of the Death Eaters broke out around eight months ago. There had been no activity for a while after they escaped, so security was lax. Plus, with their master defeated, I guess no one really saw a point to do a worldwide manhunt for them."

"Who'd you have in mind Jerry?" Harry said impatiently.

"Lucius Malfoy."

Harry's face blanched. That was certainly unexpected, and, on top of it all, made no sense. As far as Harry knew, Malfoy had never shown a spark of interested in Americans. "What business would Malfoy have in killing American muggles?"

McLaughlin shook his head and shrugged. "That's what we don't know. All we have right now is guesswork and hunches, and even those are minimal at best."

"So why call me in? Why my team?" he asked warily.

"Because, Potter. You're familiar with England. You've lived there for most of your life—"

Anger rose in his chest and he could feel his infamous temper flaring, threatening to break through the surface. "Damn it, McLaughlin! We agreed!" he yelled. "I told you that I wanted _nothing_ to do with England! And besides that, the killings are happening on American soil, why go back to England?"

Jerry sighed and sank back in his chair. "I realize that you want to stay away from your home country, Harry, and I'm sorry. But you're the best damn Auror in this company and we need your help with this before it gets out of control. And we go back to England because we believe that Lucius is not the one doing the actual killings. You know as well as I do that it is highly unlikely that Malfoy would ever step foot in America."

Harry had to agree with him on that one. He had had many encounters with Lucius and knew that Americans were on about the same level as muggle-borns for him. "You think he's the puppet master, then?" Harry asked.

Jerry paused took a deep breath before nodding. "I need you to do this, Harry. It's an order," he said firmly. "Is that clear?"

Harry hated when Jerry went into boss mode. This was the one part of the job that he detested. He had always been so used to doing things his way—he had never really had to worry about following orders before, so this was slightly new territory for him. But, he complied. Just as he always did. So, he gritted his teeth and nodded, bitterly. "Yes, sir. When do I leave?"

"You and your team of Aurors leave first thing tomorrow. I suggest you debrief them and head back to your apartment so you can pack. Do I need to make travel arrangements, or are you going to apparate?"

"Apparating's fine."

"Good. I've written all necessary information down for you. Take this packet and keep it with you. Study it. Learn it. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Jerry motioned to the door, signaling that their meeting was finished. "Get going. You've got a lot of work ahead of you, Potter."

Harry nodded and left the office so he could make his way to his team members. There, he found Oliver, Claire Winters, and Jim Demeter all waiting for him. Wood was the first to speak. "What's going on, Harry?"

He sighed and reluctantly relayed the orders to his team.

"Pack your bags, team. We're going to England."

* * *

Hello there!

This is my first Harry Potter fiction and I am _extremely_ apprehensive about positing it. People are very loyal to the series and I admit I'm rather nervous to the response I'll get. I think that's honestly part of the reason I've held off on posting this for so long.

I've been working on this for probably just shy of a year I think. I've got about ten chapters written up and I'd imagine there's probably about five or six to go, so I figured I should probably go ahead and give this a go. I've called on the great Wizard of Oz to give me some courage.

This is a Hermione/Harry tale, though they will not be together right away. They have many, many hurdles to overcome throughout this particular journey, so I hope readers of the story (should there be any with any kind of luck!) will be patient with me. I'm not a writer who generally throws her main couple together right at the off and I have a ridiculous addiction to drama. I just thought I should say those few straight-forward things about my writing style. I know a lot of people tend to get impatient with me, so I thought I'd give some fair warning. Lol.

I'm going to try and keep this in line with the series, but I have changed a few things around for my own benefit of this story. I was disappointed when Harry didn't take in Teddy and that didn't exactly sit well with me. So in my world, Harry chooses to take in his godson. Plus, it will serve for a greater purpose later on in the plot.

Also, this will contain no bashing of Ginny or Ron. I love both of them, but I'm a Harry/Hermione shipper at heart.

It's starting out as a "T" rating, but could very well change in the future. I haven't decided if I'm going to brave the sex-writing scenes or not.

This story has no beta. It's been previewed for content, that's all, though (EDIT: Which, I feel like a heel for forgetting to mention, **HoplessRomantic984**. She's been absolutely fabulous for previewing this for me!). I've tried to catch any mistakes, so please forgive any blaring errors. If they're super annoying and I still haven't caught them, please let me know and I'll fix it in a jiffy.

Anyway, I hope this wasn't a completely dreadful start. I love feedback, but please do refrain from flames, or I'll send you my own Howler (not really though). I do accept constructive criticism, though. That is very welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 2

* * *

"Potter!" He ignored the shouting and kept walking briskly towards his office. He thought he had managed escape, but was sadly mistaken because unfortunately, the next thing to fill his line of vision was Oliver Wood, who was now panting and trying to catch his breath. "Potter, wait a second!"

"What did you need, Wood?"

Harry saw Oliver frown and tilt his head to the side from the corner of his eye. "Relax. I was just coming to talk to you as a friend, Harry. How are you? I know—"

He rolled his eyes and tried to keep his temper. This was the last conversation he wanted to be having. "I'm great," he said curtly.

Wood scoffed and folded his arms. "Exactly how stupid do you think I am?" Harry opened his mouth to reply, but promptly shut it when Oliver interrupted him. "Don't answer that. Look, you may be able to fool the rest of the team, but you don't fool me. I knew you before you even hit puberty, Potter, and I think I'd be able to tell when you're lying. You never have been very good at it, anyway."

The younger wizard shot him a withering look, but Oliver remained undaunted by the glare and Harry was getting highly irritated that this subject wasn't being dropped. It was as though fate was against him this morning. First the letter from his aunt, then the sudden change in venue, and now his friend wouldn't let go of the past. With each second that passed, he could feel himself growing angrier and angrier. Which wasn't good, because he couldn't be like this in front of Teddy. He could only thank God that he had a few more hours at work before returning home to pick up his godson.

As he was getting ready to answer him, a memory floated through his head, one that, for the first few months after his departure, had been on instant replay and had refused to go away. He hated that it had chosen now to come back.

_"How could he do this? How could he just leave without even saying goodbye?" a small voice said through sniffles._

_Harry had apparated back to his and Ron's apartment to collect a few things he had forgotten about two weeks after he had left; he had hoped he would miss them, but apparently, Lady Luck wasn't on his side. Although, he supposed one good thing came out of this. He now knew that Ron was playing the innocent victim in everything and pretending he didn't know that Harry hadn't left without a word. Just fantastic._

_Despite being angry about Ron's choosing not to tell anyone he was leaving, Harry supposed he could understand why he did it, though. He was protecting his friends and family in his own way and Harry couldn't fault him for that._

_He remembered that he had an Extendable Ear lying around somewhere, but seeing as how Hermione's cat Crookshanks liked to play with them, he didn't want really want to risk it. He'd just have to eavesdrop the old-fashion way. But there was no way he'd be able to do so without at least cracking the door and deciding things couldn't possibly get any worse, he thought he'd give it a try. So, he gently eased his bedroom door open and tried to get a better grasp on what they were saying._

_"Because he's Harry. It's what he does."_

_"But still—"_

_"No! We _don't_ need him, Hermione. If he can't trust us enough to talk to us and tell us what's going on with him, then forget him! _He _left! He left without a second glance back! We're better off without him," Ron said angrily._

_He could just barely make out what Hermione said next; he was surprised he caught it, honestly. "You don't mean that," she said quietly._

_"Actually, I do!"_

_"But Ron, he's been your best friend for years! He—"_

_"Fat lot of good it's done, huh? Some best friend. Maybe somebody should have reminded him that we were such great pals before he left!" he said sarcastically._

_"Ron, stop. You don't mean any of this; you're just upset! You'll feel guilty for saying all of this when he comes back."_

_Harry heard sardonic laughter fill the apartment and he cringed. "When he comes back?! Are you even listening to yourself, Hermione? He's gone! He's not coming back!"_

_"Don't say that!"_

_"He's not coming back!" he repeated. Harry wanted to punch him for being so tactless with her. Sure, he'd been tactless loads of times with her, but it had been unintentional. But he had a feeling this was _very _intentional. "How many times do you have to hear it before you finally see that he's left us? The sooner you face the fact that he's gone, the better off we'll all be," he said angrily._

_Seconds later, a door slammed and all that Harry could hear were sobs from his friend . . ._

Harry shook his head, trying to force the memory out of his head. Even after all this time, it still cut him deeply. While he would like to say that everything turning to shit was Ron's fault, he couldn't because it wasn't. Ron actually did nothing wrong in the whole scenario. It was all Harry's fault and he lost his best friend because of his stupidity and selfishness.

And as much as he didn't want to admit it, they _were_ better off without him. All he had ever done was cause them grief, put their lives in danger. They were much safer now with him gone. He should have left a lot sooner than what he did, in fact, he should have never even let them go with him to search for the horcruxes. It had been incredibly selfish of him.

Everything about the war, everything they'd seen and been through . . . when it was first over, it had messed with his head. He knew they'd finally been safe, after all those years of fearing Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but in his mind, he'd seen Voldemort constantly, threatening to come back from the dead. It didn't matter that Harry had been the one to put an end to his pathetic existence. There was always the niggling fear in the back of his head that Voldemort would rise again and destroy everything he loved. Plus the nightmares he had of being tortured didn't help matters, either. And he never told anyone that, not even Ron or Hermione.

Harry shut his eyes and clenched his jaw together. He'd been less than unpleasant to be around before he'd left England and, as much as he tried, he couldn't even really stay angry with Ron for lying to Hermione and everyone else. After all, he was trying to protect his family and friends and Harry couldn't fault him for that.

And to think, Ron had actually been jealous of his life. Some life it was. He'd gladly trade places with him any day of the week.

He hated that this was taking over his thoughts, and he couldn't take it anymore. The reason he didn't like thinking about all of this mess was because it was so heavy on his shoulders and caused him to be more than a little tense. It made him lose focus. He needed to get his mind back on track, back to the way it was _before_ he learned of his team's relocation. And besides that, when they headed back to England, his head needed to be out of the clouds and one hundred percent alert anyway—it was better that he start now and banish all thoughts of his old friends.

So, he forced his head back on straight and pushed all non-work related thoughts out of his mind. It had been a hard thing to master at first because he had always worn his feelings right on his sleeve. That was a major weakness he'd had to overcome. But he had perfected hiding his thoughts and putting a wall up. It had been necessary for his job and he couldn't have been more thankful that he had learned to do that.

Not wanting to continue the grilling from Oliver, he gave his partner a firm glare and made sure that his face was completely void of all emotion. The last thing he needed was for a look of remorse or nostalgia to cross his features—he didn't need anything that would egg Wood on. And besides, if Wood ever found out that Kate knew everything there was to know about his sordid past, Harry would be in some hot water for sure.

Perhaps it was wrong that he'd told a complete stranger over his old school mate, but then again, Kate didn't know anybody from his past besides Oliver. Who the hell was she going to tell? He shrugged off any lingering feelings of guilt and folded his arms. The sooner this line of questioning was over, the better. "Look, I'll be fine. We're going to go there, do our jobs, leave, and come back. Nobody even has to know I'm there," he said firmly.

Oliver's eyes narrowed and he frowned while Harry inwardly cursed at him. Clearly he wasn't going to let this go. "What's this about, Harry? I've not seen you this adamant about anything since I first ran into you when you moved to here and you made me promise not to tell anybody you were here. Why? Why don't you want them to get the chance to see your godson? Why don't you want to see your family?"

Harry's jaw clenched, as did his fists and he tried to ignore the dull ache in his chest as some of his happiest memories flashed through his mind and then, were soon overpowered by his worst. "I have no family, remember? _My_ family was killed," he said bitterly.

It was a damn idiotic thing to say, not to mention incredibly selfish. He instantly regretted the words as soon as they flew out of his mouth. He was acting like a brat and Wood was obviously in agreement with him, as he should be.

"Don't be stupid, Potter. Those people that you left hanging back in England five years ago are your family. You're not being fair to them. They're good people! I mean, they took you in from the time you were eleven years old and this is how you repay them? Teddy deserves to know them."

On the one hand, he could acknowledge that perhaps Oliver was right. The Weasleys were basically his surrogate family and he'd abandoned them when the going got tough. He knew that Mrs. Weasley would completely fawn over Teddy and he was sure that George would teach him to be a misfit, not that he needed it considering who his mother was.

But then on the other hand, though, Harry couldn't believe Oliver was trying to make it sound like it was entirely his fault when he didn't even know the whole story! He was trying desperately not to lose his cool with Oliver, but, for the first time in years, his temper got the better of him. Something inside of him snapped at Oliver's last words. Suggesting to bring Teddy along was the stupidest idea he'd heard in a long time and it made him angry.

"Teddy is _my_ godson and I'm responsible for him. I'll not take him all the way across the goddamn Atlantic Ocean and have him be confused and seeing everybody from my past would confuse him! I won't drag him into that mess! I can see the headlines now: 'Famous Harry Potter Returns With Small Boy in Tow. Who's the Mother?' So you see, you don't know what the hell you're talking about, so get your nose out of my business, Wood! Butt out!" he shouted, seething, his words dripping with anger.

Instead of automatically getting angry, as he would have expected Oliver to do, he simply smirked and quirked an eyebrow. "Now _there's_ a reaction I haven't seen from you in a long time. It's like the old Harry's coming back full-force."

It was like a slap in the face. That's what Oliver's statement reminded him of; it was what it felt like. In fact, Harry could have sworn he even heard flesh connecting to flesh. The blow stung, all right. But the sad thing was, he was right. And that was bad. Harry needed that part of his life to be over. He didn't_want_ to be the old Harry anymore.

He quickly set his face and gave his jaw a firm lock. "You're wrong," he said quietly, lying through his teeth. He knew very well that Oliver was right, but he wasn't about to admit it to him. "The old Harry's dead and buried. He's not coming back," he said firmly.

"What's wrong with the old Harry? I thought he was a pretty decent guy. A lot of people did," Oliver remarked. "He was a hero, in fact."

Harry looked away and forced his mind to close off to avoid the memories sure to follow if he didn't. He shut his eyes and shook his head. "Some hero," he muttered. The hero had gone behind his best friend's back. What kind of hero does that?

"Harry. What happened?"

He shrugged and tried to make it seem as though he didn't care one way or the other. "It doesn't matter. It's over. It's done. I'm not revisiting the past."

"But—"

"No," he said through clenched teeth. "This conversation is over, Wood."

"But if it doesn't matter anymore, then you should be able to talk about it, just fine!"

"What part of 'this conversation is over' are you not comprehending? We're _not_ talking about this anymore and besides that, it's none of your business!"

Wood's eyebrows rose and he gave Harry an incredulous stare. "None of my business?!" he yelled angrily. As soon as the words left Oliver's mouth, various passersby turned their heads with curiosity written all over their faces. It was obvious that they were slowing their pace, trying to see what the shouting match was about. This place was a magnet for juicy gossip and the fact that Oliver rarely yelled, especially at Harry, was enough to turn heads for sure.

Immediately taking notice, Oliver lowered his voice. "None of my business?" he repeated. "Are you kidding? Do you know how many times I've lied for you? Do you know how many times Mrs. Weasley has contacted me to see if I've heard from you? Do you know what it's like to hear the disappointment and the sadness dripping from her voice when I tell her that I've not seen you in years? I swear, that woman knows I'm lying," he mumbled. "Hell, Ron's even contacted me—"

At that, Harry's head snapped fully towards Oliver, giving him his undivided attention. That was certainly shocking to him. When they had fought, Harry had been under the impression that Ron Weasley would never make an attempt to contact him. It was a nasty fight all right, so he couldn't help but be curious. "Ron? When was this?"

Oliver looked at the ceiling, doing apparent calculations in his head. "Uh, about a year ago, I think. He even apparated to New York and let met tell you, seeing him at my door nearly gave me a bloody panic attack. You had actually just left my place like five minutes before he got there. I would have told you, but you had already asked me not to tell you who was contacting me and asking about you anymore."

Five minutes. Wow. Harry couldn't believe that five minutes was all that had kept him and Ron apart and he couldn't help but go into his best friend mode. It was apparently a habit he couldn't kick, despite the fallout that had occurred. "How'd he sound? Was he okay?"

"You know, for someone who claims he doesn't care, you sure sound awfully concerned," Oliver said mockingly.

"I never said I didn't care," he snapped.

Harry watched as Oliver heaved a sigh of frustration and he began to protest as his former team captain began pulling him into his own office before he shut the door. Harry couldn't believe that his subordinate just dragged him into his office!

"What on earth . . .?"

"Tell me what the hell is going on here, Harry. I have a right to know considering I've been lying for you without question for the last five years," he said through clenched teeth. "I mean since you sacrificed yourself and all, you were entitled to your privacy, after all. But this is getting ridiculous."

Harry mirrored Oliver's earlier sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

Where to begin with what had happened. Perhaps at the part where Harry had gone into a slightly depressive state of mind and would barely speak with anyone besides Hermione. Everyone else had just let him be, but not her. She had pushed and the pushing had led them to be… closer. Significantly so.

After everything happened, he had expected to feel relieved, happy even. But it was quite the opposite, actually. He had found himself growing angrier and angrier at everything. Nothing seemed to have been able to pull him out of the massive depression he had begun feeling. His mind had been plagued by his final battle with Voldemort, being tortured . . . It changed him. He definitely was not the same Harry Potter anymore. He even started looking at books about the dark arts. It had startled him that he had bothered with that stuff.

It had shocked Hermione even more and when she had found out that he had been reading that stuff, she had given him the worst tongue-lashing he'd ever received in his life. It was at that point that she had started talking about the war and about the time she had been tortured.

She'd discovered him reading a book in the library and her eyes had widened when she saw the title. She had looked around at the rest of the books that had been lying around and she'd glared at him. The next thing he knew, a trembling Hermione Granger had slapped him. He could still remember the exact words she'd said to him:

_"I didn't fight beside of you, risk my life, and get tortured by those . . . those people just so you could start taking a fancy for dark magic! I did it to help free you from the very thing you're reading about! You will snap out of this this instant, do you hear me, Harry? I want my friend back, damn it!"_

Her chest had been heaving with anger, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She'd been frightened out of her wits and Harry had immediately tossed the books into the fireplace. As they were burning, Harry had stood behind Hermione and wrapped his arms around her waist as both of them stared into the fireplace, watching the books turn to ash. He'd whispered into her ear, "I'm sorry," and placed a kiss on her temple. After that, it was never mentioned again.

Ron had gotten suspicious of all the time the two were spending together and hadn't trusted Harry or Hermione at all. He had jumped to the conclusion that something more had been going on. At the time, there hadn't been, except perhaps one or two very _innocent_ kisses, and Harry could only imagine that Ron's constant accusations he threw at Hermione was what undoubtedly drove her closer to him.

They should have spent less time together, especially after knowing Ron's insecurities about Harry getting together with Hermione. He'd tried to stay away from her. He really had. But he'd needed her. He'd needed her in a way that his own girlfriend couldn't have possibly been there for him. Ginny just hadn't understood and it had ultimately driven a wedge between them that couldn't be fixed.

Eventually, though, everything had come to a head when Hermione had come over to Grimmauld Place in tears and wouldn't tell Harry what was wrong with her, but she hadn't really needed to. It was obvious that it was Ron. Ron was the only one that could get her upset like that. He'd witnessed enough of their fights to know that much.

And finally, seeing Hermione so upset because of his best friend got his blood boiling. It wasn't right—she hadn't deserved that kind of treatment at all, but Ron obviously hadn't cared. So he had gone to confront Ron about it and when Harry had found him, he'd been in a horrible drunken state. Things were said, horrible things. Things that neither one of them could take back.

Harry had stormed out of the bar and disappeared for about a day or two, taking refuge in Neville's place. He'd needed some alone time and then when he'd decided he was ready to go back, he refused to go to his and Ron's loft, so he'd gone to Grimmauld Place.

It hadn't been more than a few minutes after he returned that he'd found Hermione Granger in his house, ready to pick a fight. She'd been beyond angry at him for taking off, which got him angry, and eventually, things had just gotten out of control. After they had calmed down, though, it had turned out to be an interesting night indeed and quite possibly, an even more interesting morning. Perhaps interesting didn't quite cover it though. For the morning bit, painful seemed to be more accurate. Her words still reverberated through his skull occasionally.

_"You're wrong. It didn't mean anything. Our hormones just got a little out of control, that's all. It was a mistake, do you understand?"_

Yeah. He'd understood perfectly . . .

"Look, I agree. You definitely deserve to know everything and I'll tell you. I will. But right now, we have a very short amount of time to get ready for this trip. I need to finish up some paperwork and then I need to go home and pack. You need to do the same. There isn't time to be talking about personal lives at the moment, okay?"

"Give me the abridged version, then," he replied stubbornly.

Harry sighed and wiped a hand over his face. He supposed that wouldn't hurt, especially if it got Oliver off his back. Plus, he was being a jerk earlier and maybe it would help alleviate some of his guilt for being a shitty friend. "Long story short?" Oliver nodded. "All right. Things fell apart at the seams. None of us knew what was happening and there wasn't anything we could do to stop it. Our friendships turned to shit. And to top it all off, I betrayed my best friend. Still think I'm such a hero?" he asked sarcastically.

Oliver's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean you betrayed your best friend? What could you have possibly done to him?" After he folded his arms and studied Harry intently, those narrowed eyes now widened to the size of saucers. "No. Harry come on, tell me you didn't."

Harry shifted uncomfortably and gave him a helpless shrug. "It was a one-time thing. It didn't mean anything to her."

His friends eyes softened sympathetically. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"She made her feelings perfectly clear. I thought I'd made mine clear, too. I guess not, though. Doesn't matter anyway," he said, trying to feign indifference. The truth was, this conversation was killing him. Talking about it hurt like hell. Saying it over and over in his head, trying to accept it was one thing. Saying it out loud seemed to make it more real.

"Harry come on," he said softly. "I know I don't know Hermione as well as you, but—"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," he snapped angrily, interrupting him. "I gave you enough information, okay? Just let it go."

Though he looked reluctant and empathetic as ever, he nodded nonetheless. "All right, then. I'll just leave you to your paperwork."

"Thanks. I'll gather the team up tomorrow morning. Be ready to go and get some sleep. You'll need it."

Oliver headed towards the door as Harry was making his way towards his desk, which was filled with far too much junk. He was about to start sorting through everything when he heard Oliver speak up again. "How bad do you think this is going to get?"

Harry paused as he was getting ready to sit down at his desk and he looked up at Wood, who had a worried expression on his face. He sighed and resumed sitting down and fell back into his plush leather chair. "I have no idea, Oliver. Can't be any worse than Voldemort, though, right?"

He watched Oliver wince and then nod. Harry didn't get it; people still had problems hearing Voldemort's name even after he had been dead for a good six years. It's not like he was going to suddenly spring to life at the mere mention of his name, despite however many times Harry spent worrying about the same thing. Not necessarily the same thing, just close enough. The difference was, he knew it was a foolish phobia and he wished people would get over that stupid fear. It was absurd. No one could come back from the dead. Not even Voldemort.

"Right. See ya, Harry."

Finally, Oliver left his office and Harry immediately started sorting through all of the necessary paperwork that he had to get finished before he and his team took off to England tomorrow.

He became so consumed with focusing on getting all the necessary preliminary work completed that he didn't even notice the time. He was completely oblivious to everything around him and jumped when he heard a loud knock at the door. Looking up, he saw McLaughlin standing there with a frown on his face.

"Don't you have packing to do, Potter?" he said before turning around and leaving again.

Harry gritted his teeth after he glanced up at the clock. He had been in his office for nearly four hours straight without even realizing it.

He supposed he had put off packing long enough, though. After all, he couldn't very well go running around England stark naked. And he still had to make arrangements with Kate to keep Teddy. This was perfect. He had no idea how long he'd be gone and he just expected Kate to drop everything to help him out? He was such a wanker sometimes . . .

Grumbling, he put all of his completed paperwork in a pile for his secretary to collect in the morning, grabbed the packet of information that McLaughlin had given him earlier, and did one last sweep of his office before apparating back to Kate's.

He knocked and when she came to the door, shock graced her features. "Harry. You're here early. Teddy's taking a nap in the playroom. I'll just go . . ." she trailed off and turned back around to face him. "Uh-oh. That's not a happy face," she noted as she tightened long sweater jacket around her.

"Nothing gets by you, Kate. And I see your hair's back to normal," he said with smirk.

"Well, nothing gets by you," she mocked. "And do shut up, you ingrate. What was with the pouty face? You looked like your dog died or something."

"We don't have a dog."

"Whatever. You know, you're starting to get on my nerves, Potter. What's up?"

"You're sure Ted's asleep?"

"Yeah, he's out like a light. We went running through the park earlier and he wore himself out. Seriously, what's going on?"

"Kate, I'm so sorry, but Teddy's going to have to stay with you for a little while if you don't mind."

"How long's a while?"

"I have no idea. I—"

She came out of her doorway and quietly shut it behind her and she looked as though she were going to strangle him. Harry immediately started backing away from her, eyes wide and instinctively grabbed his wand. "Harry James Potter. You're not running away, are you? Because I've noticed how tired and stressed out you've been lately and—"

He started laughing, suddenly feeling rather relaxed at the knowledge that she wasn't advancing on him to cause him bodily harm, and grabbed her by the shoulders to gently shake some sense into her. "Kate, stop it. I'm not running away. I'd never do that to Teddy and I'd certainly never pass my responsibility off to someone else. Come on, I thought you knew me better than that?"

She breathed an audible sigh of relief and hugged him, which he automatically returned. This felt nice. Normally they were too busy sparring with each other to even think about stuff like this. "Sorry. It's just the look in your eyes . . . you've only ever looked that way once and that was when you first came here. You looked so haunted, just like you do now."

"How is it I let you know me so well?" he murmured into her hair.

She laughed and pulled away from him. "It wasn't you who let me know you, it was that bottle of tequila that helped do the job," she said cheekily.

"That does help, I suppose," he said with a grin.

Kate smiled and tilted her head to the side as she crossed her arms. "Okay. Now what had you so glum when you knocked on my door?"

His grin disappeared and he sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I have to go to back to England, Kate."

Her smile she was sporting immediately left her face as well and concern filled her sparkling blue eyes. "Why?" she asked Harry.

"My boss. There's been some activity and he feels it's originating from the London area, so now, my team and I have to go overseas and investigate. Joy," he said sarcastically.

"I thought you specifically requested to stay in the States?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

Harry nodded glumly. "Guess you can't always get what you want, though. Can you watch him? I need to go pack."

"Of course," she said and then bit her lip. Harry's eyes narrowed as he studied her. He recognized that look. And it wasn't sitting well with him.

He sighed impatiently and ran a hand through his hair. "What?" he bit out. At her confused expression, he elaborated. "Come on, spit it out. You have an opinion that I just can't _wait_ to hear," he said as he rolled his eyes.

"It's not that I mind keeping Teddy. You know I love him to pieces. Probably more than I should," she said under her breath. "But shouldn't you, you know, take him with you? Aren't there people over there that would want to see him?"

Harry groaned and let his head fall into his hands. "Not you, too," he mumbled. "Look, I'm not even going to see anybody that I knew growing up. I'm going there to do what needs to be done and then coming back here. It's really that simple, so it'd be pointless to bring Teddy along. And on top of that, not to sound arrogant and conceited, but you have no idea how . . . _obsessed_, people are with me in England."

Kate snorted, obviously finding his modesty in distaste, and Harry let out an exasperated sigh. "It's true! You've not been there to witness the fuss they make over me. Personally, I don't get it. But that's beside the point. I might be able to get one day of peace and quiet once I get back there and that's if I'm lucky. Once it's leaked out that I'm back, the press will be all over me. I'll not do that to Teddy," he said hotly. "I won't put him in danger."

Kate's eyes widened. "You really think he'd be in danger if he went over there?"

"I _know_ he would! Look, those vultures are part of the reason I left! You know that," he finished.

"All right, all right. I still think you shouldn't run from this. You're going to have to face them eventually. Especially if the media is as bad as you say they are. Don't you think they deserve to find out you're back in a different way other than that horrible newspaper you told me about?"

"I don't have time for this. I really don't. I need to start packing. Can you watch Teddy or not?"

She waved off the question and sighed. "You know I can. That's not the issue. But—"

"Good," he said, blatantly ignoring her. She sighed in frustration and shook her head as he continued rambling on as though he didn't cut her off. "I'll be back over in a little bit to pick him up and then I'll drop him off at your place early in the morning. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Whatever," she said and stormed back into her flat.

Great. Now she was pissed at him and he'd have to smooth things over with her when he got back. Just terrific. First he was a jerk to Oliver earlier and now Kate was angry with him. He was on a role. Feeling irritated, he pulled the hairs on the back of his neck and kicked at the wall.

Not caring that muggles could be watching, he pulled out his wand and muttered "_Aloha mora_" to unlock his door. When he got inside, the normal, relieved feeling he usually had when he came home was absent. Instead, dread replaced it. He didn't want to go back there. Not after all this time away.

Time.

It seemed to be sneering at him, mocking him, laughing at him as the seconds ticked by, constantly reminding him that in less than twenty-four hours, he would be back in England, forced to face his past.

As he was getting ready to start packing, the hour chimed and Harry mumbled, "Oh, shut up," as he took his wand out to silence the clock himself.

* * *

Hours later, Harry stood in the familiar streets of London with his team outside their hotel. They had checked in and now had nothing to do for a few hours. He swallowed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he looked around.

It was the same. Nothing appeared to be any different to him.

But, despite the familiarity, he felt . . . out of place. He felt like he didn't belong here anymore.

He didn't know if he was going to have the strength to get through this assignment. This place was full of bad memories for him; it was why he had left in the first place. He suddenly wanted to be back in New York with Teddy. The sleepy goodbye from his godson this morning just didn't seem right. He'd never left him alone for this long before.

Honestly, this whole entire mission gave him a bad feeling. He highly doubted Lucius Malfoy was involved in any way shape or form. Something just wasn't sitting right with him, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Thankfully, Oliver interrupted his thoughts before he could torment himself any further. "Hey Harry, I'm going to show Claire and Jim around. They've never been to England before and they want to do normal tourist stuff before we have to get to the job. Do you want to come with us?"

Harry shook his head and attempted to do his best to muster up a smile. "No, that's all right. I think I'll just head back in to the hotel and look over what we've got so far for the case."

Oliver blinked in apparent surprise. "Hotel? You're not—?"

"No," Harry said sharply. He knew Oliver probably thought that he would be staying at Grimmauld Place, despite having already checked in with the rest of them, but he didn't want to go back there. He wasn't ready yet. "I'll be staying in a hotel, just like the rest of you."

Oliver frowned, but nodded. "Right, then. See you later."

As Harry was getting ready to walk away, he noticed his two team members and wanted to laugh. Jim, with his boyish blonde hair and muscular nature, looked like a small child experiencing a sweet shop for the first time. His blue eyes were sparkling with amazement and wonder while Claire had a more reserved excitement about her, which didn't surprise Harry in the slightest. She had always been rather quiet and complacent, which made her fairly easy to work with.

She gave him a small smile. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us, Harry? It might do you some good to get away from work for a little while."

His gaze softened and he returned her smile. "Thanks, Claire, but I'll be okay. You and Jim go have fun."

Harry watched as she glanced back over her shoulder to see Oliver and Jim already getting a head start. As she bit her lip, Harry took notice of the way the sunlight seemed to enhance her brown hair and fought back a chuckle as some of the male population began turning their heads in apparent fascination. She, as always, remained oblivious to the affect she always seemed to have on men—himself included when he had first met her.

"Are you sure?" she asked again.

While he had gotten irritated with Oliver for being so pushy, he couldn't bring himself to lose his patience with Claire. She just seemed to have some kind of calming affect on him; he never felt angry around her.

"I'll be fine, Claire. Go on," he assured her.

"All right, then. I still don't see why you have to be so stubborn about it," she complained.

He chuckled and gave her a nudge towards Oliver and Jim. "I can't help it, Winters. It's in my blood. Now get going. That's an order," he remarked teasingly.

Claire rolled her eyes and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "See you later," she said before taking off in a slow jog after Oliver and Jim.

Harry felt himself smiling as he watched his team members laughing and acting like they didn't have a care in the world. They all looked so carefree and . . ._normal._

He shook his head and put an instant stop to his pity party. There were things to be done and the last thing he needed or wanted to be doing was moping.

So he quickly made his way to the room and went over all possible motivations for Lucius to orchestrate these killings and came up with a big fat nothing. Again. Truthfully, he thought it was a load of hogwash that his office suspected Malfoy. He was familiar with how Lucius's twisted mind worked and he couldn't think of any reason for him to go after American muggles.

He had ordered extensive background searches on the deceased and would have to wait impatiently before he could see if there was anything beneath the surface that he was missing to link them to England. As it was now, though, there was not much he could do except sit around and wait for the check to be completed. It was a frustrating place to be in.

Feeling irritated and somewhat put out, he tossed his packet onto the desk and decided to go for a walk, despite not wanting to really leave the room. He was growing stir crazy and needed the fresh air, so he grabbed his black leather jacket that he'd grown rather fond of, made sure he had his wallet, and set off.

When Harry made his way downstairs, he saw a few people staring at him with odd expressions on their faces and heard barely audible whispering fill his ears, so he quickened his pace and lowered his head, hating the attention he was receiving. Harry really wished they'd chosen to stay at a muggle hotel. At least then he might have _some_ shot at privacy.

He had only been back in London for a few hours and he was already getting swamped with the stares and knew rumors and gossip would be following soon enough. He felt exposed, like he was on display for the entire world to see. He could only thank God that he had enough sense not bring Teddy here. He could only imagine how out of control the press would be with that.

Once he got outside, he sighed in relief and ran a hand through his hair. He felt a little better now that he was outside; he had always loved being outdoors, so he was quite happy to meander down the streets of London.

About a million thoughts began racing through his head as he continued his walk and none of those thoughts were ones that he necessarily liked. He inadvertently began thinking of all the people he had left behind five years ago.

He knew how some of them were doing, like Neville for instance. Harry knew that Neville was now working at Hogwarts. He had completed his schooling for teaching and he hadn't even had to apply for the job. He had heard somewhere that Luna was working in St. Mungo's. He had no idea what she would be doing there, but he was under the impression that she was good at whatever she was doing.

But the people he cared about the most, the ones that he fought hard to not think about, he had no idea where life had taken them. It saddened him a little to think that this was what his relationship with them all had been reduced to, but it was his own fault. He had been the one to leave. Nobody had forced him into it.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts and tried to focus on the sights around him.

But when he looked around, he blinked in surprise. "The Leaky Cauldron?" he muttered. He couldn't believe that he had wandered all the way over to The Leaky Cauldron without even realizing it. It was like his feet had a mind of their own or something.

He was getting ready to walk away when he saw something that stopped him dead in his tracks. He felt frozen with fear and confusion. Was he going crazy? Had he finally cracked after all the traumatic experiences that he had been dealt?

"What the . . .?"

As he stared into the sea of nameless faces around him, all sounds seemed to vanish and the people appeared to have dissipated into thin air. He zeroed in on the sole figure that was causing fear to pulse through his veins. He saw—or _thought _he saw—Voldemort. His blood ran cold as he saw the familiar cold eyes that haunted his dreams and an evil, unforgiving smirk on his face.

Harry promptly shut his eyes and shook his head. It couldn't be real. He knew that. He defeated Voldemort six years ago. He had to be seeing things. There was no way for Voldemort to actually _be _there.

When he opened his eyes again, though, the figure was gone.

His heart began pounding rapidly in his chest and he felt as though he was going to collapse. Beads of sweat began forming on his forehead and he was beginning to wonder if he really _was _losing it.

He had no idea what had just happened.

He did, however, know that he didn't want to stand around and try to analyze it.

So he quickly dashed inside The Leaky Cauldron without thinking twice. All he knew was that he wanted to be anywhere but the spot he was standing in, so he did something about it.

But when he walked into the old pub, every single head turned in his direction. The entire room had gone silent and the oddest feeling of déjà vu washed over him. He felt like he was eleven years old all over again.

He heard whispers: "It's Harry Potter." "Is that really him?" "It can't be—he's been gone for _ages_." "No, it _is._ I swear it! Look. He's right there!"

He knew immediately that he had made a mistake when he had used the bar for refuge.

He had just let the entire wizarding world know that he was back.

* * *

Wow. So Harry's really broody in this chapter. I hadn't realized how much so until I went back to go read it again. If you can believe it, before I edited this chapter, he was even worse. I hated how I wrote him, so I hope this helped things not be so bad. Originally, he was an even bigger jerk to Oliver, but that wasn't flying with me when I looked over it. Just eh. I hope this wasn't too bad. It doesn't exactly explain things away, but it does give some insight.

Also, I'd like to say thank you like a million trillion times. I can't believe the positive response this has gotten so far and it's really helped put my mind at some ease. The kind words and encouragement have helped me tremendously and I can't thank you all enough for it. It's gotten almost five hundred hits already and nearly thirty alerts, plus it's been added to two communities already. I was expecting little to no response at all for this, so this is pretty mind-boggling for me. I hope this chapter hasn't disappointed anyone.

Thanks goes to:

**pawsrule, F5Chaos, daniellover12, jafr86, Wesleyangirl13, eSJa, **and **randomharmony13.**

I'll try my best to always do the individual replies, but I can't promise anything. Sometimes I get busy and time gets away from me.

Anyway, thanks once more! I was going to wait a full week before posting anything else, but I was too excited. Yeah, I know. I'm a nerd. Lol.


	3. Chapter 3

"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 3

* * *

Harry quickly retreated from the Leaky Cauldron as fast as his legs could carry him. He didn't want to linger any longer than necessary and when he got outside, he sighed in relief. He really didn't know what he had been thinking when he had run in there like that.

But he did know that he shouldn't stand around much longer. If he knew this place as well as he thought he did, it would be known that he was back in London in less than a half an hour, so he had to move quickly.

Without thinking twice, he apparated to the boundaries of Hogwarts. When he got there, he thought about going to Hagrid's, but decided against it. Harry still considered Hagrid to be one of his very good friends and he trusted him completely. But he needed someone else, someone who could give him a good ass kicking for being so bloody stupid. There was one person who resided in that castle that he knew he could count on to do just that, too.

And so, with a new determination abound, he took a deep breath and began the journey to the place he'd spent so much of his childhood and teenage years in.

As he thought about what he was going to say, he took in the sight around him and, regardless of all of his worries over everything, he realized that he still felt at home here. Hogwarts had always been a place where he belonged; he thought that had changed along with everything else, but as it was, he was glad he had been wrong.

Finally, after what seemed like a ridiculously long hike to the castle, he reached the doors and made his way inside. Though he had, at one point, lived inside these walls, he still couldn't help but stare in awe at his surroundings. This place was still incredible to him, even after all these years.

He began walking the familiar corridors and as he moved forward, he took the time to notice all the pictures around him, noting that they were all the same and somehow felt comforted by that fact.

Eventually, after a long, languorous walk, he wound up at his intended destination. He stood in front of the familiar gargoyle that led to Professor Dumbledore's old office—Professor McGonagall's office, actually.

He sighed in frustration as he realized that he probably should have tried figuring out the password before coming here. It was useless to try to get that damn thing to move without one.

"Gryffindor?" Nothing. "Gingersnaps?" Still, the gargoyle remained frozen. He angrily kicked at the wall and began listing off ridiculous possible password combinations and by the end of it all, he wanted to blast that stupid statue to bits. Feeling his frustration start to get the better of him, out of sheer desperation, he decided to use a combination he had jokingly tried on the gargoyle a long time ago while Dumbledore was still the headmaster. Perhaps McGonagall had his same sense of humor. "Cockroach Clusters?" And, as he expected, nothing.

Before he could even ponder his next move though, out of nowhere, he felt himself being drenched with what he hoped was water. Harry didn't even need to look up to see what had caused the damage. "Damn it, Peeves!" he shouted as he tried shaking some of the liquid off his jacket. His black hair became matted to his forehead and he angrily tried fixing that as well. Stupid ghost.

"Wee, wee Potty's all grown up. You'd think all his extra years would lessen his stupidity," Peeves the Poltergeist chanted, cackling. "Peeves has been listening, he has. All password attempts are wrong indeed!"

Harry gritted his teeth. He had always had a small dislike for this particular ghost and this situation only deepened it. He didn't have the patience for Peeves' games at the moment. "Do _you_ know what the password is?"

"Peeves hears things, he does," the ghost said tauntingly.

"Could you tell me?"

"Peeves could tell, but he's not going to. He thinks it's funny watching Pottyhead guess. Peeves knows he can't guess the password. Come on, Potty. What's your next guess?"

"Try Fizzing Whizbees, Potter."

The gargoyle sprang to life and Harry spun around to see Professor McGonagall standing there with a slight twinkle in her eyes.

"Professor," he said, feeling slightly shocked at her sudden appearance.

"Hello, Potter. I heard you were back. I thought that it was just another silly rumor started up again, though . . ." she trailed off, the twinkle in her eyes suddenly vanishing. It was quickly replaced with a saddened look and Harry immediately felt guilty. He could imagine there had been many rumors involving his return or whereabouts, which would have led to many disappointments for his friends. He looked down at the floor, unable to bring himself to look her in the eyes any longer.

Suddenly, Peeves started cackling again. "No, Professorhead. Potty's come back to cause more mischief, he has."

Professor McGonagall glared at Peeves. "Don't you have someone else to go annoy, Peeves?"

Peeves scowled and was getting ready to say something when Professor McGonagall pointed her wand at one of the fixtures and said, "_Waddiwasi_."

Harry roared with laughter as a piece of gum (which the poltergeist had probably placed there himself at some point) went flying up Peeves' nose. He remembered Lupin performing the same spell on Peeves in his third year and somehow, it was even better the second time around.

Peeves flew off swearing and Professor McGonagall simply chuckled. "We never have been able to control that one. Thank Heaven for the Bloody Baron. Otherwise, nobody would be able to get Peeves to listen."

He smiled as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Peeves is still terrified of him, then?"

She mirrored his grin and nodded. "Oh, yes. Terrified as ever. And Professor Trelawny is still predicting students' demises every year, Professor Bins is still as dull as he ever was, Mr. Longbottom is still forgetful, Ms. Lovegood is still strange, and Miss Weasley is still strong-minded and hotheaded. Not much has changed."

Harry's heart did a small flip at the mention of his old girlfriend. He had checked up on Ginny once or twice a few years ago when he'd been drunk out of his mind. It was honestly a miracle he hadn't splinched himself with as sloshed as he'd been. But anyway, it had just been too hard to _keep_ checking on her, besides the fact that he would never have done it sober. It wouldn't have been fair to come back and confuse her, especially since he had no romantic intentions towards her.

Sometimes he was a bit disappointed that they hadn't worked out. He'd wanted so badly to officially be a part of the Weasley clan and couldn't help but wonder if his feelings towards her had been forced out of desperation. It wasn't that he didn't love Ginny, he did. He just wasn't _in _love with her. And he could only thank Merlin that she hadn't ever caught him checking in. That would have been a bloody catastrophe.

It seemed, though, that she was happy and that had been enough to put his drunken mind at ease. In one of the trips he'd made back, he discovered she'd gotten back together with Dean Thomas and both of them looked very much in love, which was good. She deserved a chance to be happy with somebody that didn't carry as much baggage as him.

So after that was all sorted, he'd stayed away.

He knew his thoughts were straying and becoming less focused, so he forced himself to snap out of his reverie and came back to the present. He knew why she had said something about Neville, but he was at a loss as to why she would bother with Luna and Ginny.

He crinkled his nose in confusion. "I know why you mentioned Neville, Professor, but why the other two? I thought Luna was working at St. Mungo's?"

Professor McGonagall quirked an eyebrow. "You've been keeping up on your friends, have you?"

"Some of them," he mumbled as he looked down at the floor again.

The aging professor folded her arms and frowned, making her disapproval known. "And I take it Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger are not among the ones you've been keeping tabs on, then?"

Harry's head shot up and a strange feeling bubbled up in his stomach for some reason. "Why would you assume I haven't been checking up on them?"

She gave him a sad smile and his feeling only worsened. "Because something tells me that you would have been back a lot sooner had you been doing so." He had nothing to say to that. What did she mean? So many scenarios were running through his head, none of them good.

At his silence, she placed a hand on his shoulder and began ushering him towards the staircase. "Why don't we go on up to my office, Potter? We can continue our conversation there."

All he could do was nod and follow her to the office that he had spent much of his youth in.

He didn't exactly know what he was expecting when he walked into the headmaster's quarters, but somehow, he hadn't expected it to look the same. She had barely touched the office—maybe she added a few mementos here and there, giving it a more personalized look, but the setup was almost exactly the way he remembered it.

He saw all the previous headmasters' portraits hanging on the wall, including Dumbledore's. He wasn't present at the moment, which Harry was slightly thankful for. He had only just stepped into the office and the idea of seeing Professor Dumbledore's talking portrait was somewhat disconcerting to him. It was hard enough getting over his death without something like that as a constant reminder of what was lost. He could only imagine how hard it must have been for his favorite teacher.

"Professor? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

He hesitated, unsure of how to state his question. "Is it weird?"

She turned around and cocked her head to the side with confusion etched on her face. "Is what weird, Potter?"

He nodded to Professor Dumbledore's portrait. "Seeing him . . ." he trailed off, knowing that he didn't have to finish his sentence. He could tell that she immediately understood when he motioned his head towards Dumbledore.

She sighed and sat down in her chair. "Sometimes. In the beginning, I often found myself forgetting for a moment that he's no longer with us. But now . . ." she trailed off, and Harry noted that a dazed look graced her aging features. He could tell that she was no longer in the present and he felt like an outsider, intruding on something private.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall seemed to have snapped out of whatever reverie she was in and she cleared her throat. "Anyway, let's get right to the point, shall we? I'd like to ask you a question of my own." He nodded for her to continue. "What were you thinking when you walked into the Leaky Cauldron? You should have known better. That place is a magnet for gossip, Potter."

He shifted his weight uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck. "I . . . I thought I saw somebody that I didn't want to see."

That was a safe answer. It was a half-baked truth, but it was the truth, nonetheless. How was he supposed to tell her that he saw Voldemort standing in a crowded street without sounding like a complete nutter?

"Is that all?" she asked skeptically, clearly not believing anything he was telling her.

"That's all. I didn't even realize it was the Leaky Cauldron until it was too late."

Silence passed between them and he could see his former professor growing more and more irritated with each passing minute. He knew better than to think he could fool her.

"You know I don't believe a word of this, don't you?" Harry nodded grimly, but remained silent. "Very well," she continued when he said nothing. "So may I ask why you're back? And for that matter, where your godson is?"

Harry shrugged as he leaned against the wall. "Business. I'm working as an Auror in the States and my job's brought me back. I'm afraid I can't tell you why, though. And Teddy's back at home with his nanny. I couldn't risk bringing him here with the press and everything. It would confuse him."

She looked a little disappointed when he mentioned Teddy wasn't there, but she nodded as if it weren't a big deal. "Understood. Is there anything I can help you with, then?"

"There might be." He hesitated, unsure of how to state his question. When he could think of no delicate way to phrase it, he ultimately decided to go with his gut and just be blunt. It was Minerva McGonagall, after all, and if anyone could appreciate bluntness, it was the professor. "Have you heard from Lucius Malfoy at all? Or even Draco for that matter?"

Confusion filled her eyes as she folded her arms. "Why on earth would you be asking about the Malfoys?"

"Professor, have you heard from either of them?" he said stubbornly. He was in job mode now, not former student. And he'd learned a long time ago to how to keep on track. That's why McLaughlin claimed him to be the best in the company; he was a master interrogator and he usually got what he wanted.

Her eyes narrowed and Harry knew that she had just realized he was questioning her for his job and not just for his personal knowledge. She didn't look happy, but she answered him. "The last time I saw Lucius Malfoy was just before he was taken to Azkaban. I've not heard from him since," she responded curtly.

"And Draco?"

"Mr. Malfoy has grown up to be a fine young man, Potter. As far as I know, he's working in the ministry for the Department of Mysteries."

He sighed and ran a hand through his already messy hair. This was just as he suspected. The last he remembered of the Malfoys, they had been trying to turn their family around and escape from under Voldemort's thumb. He sincerely doubted that any member of the Malfoy clan would be delving into the dark arts again.

While he was pleased that his hunches were still worth something, the fact that Professor McGonagall had just confirmed his suspicions put him right back at square one. He had nothing, which frustrated him to no end.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"Are you done interrogating me now, Potter?" she asked coolly.

He grimaced at her question and silently nodded. "Sorry."

She looked pensive for a moment before her shoulders seemed to finally relax. "It's fine. I understand you're doing your job, just don't blindside me like that again. If you want to ask me a question for your work, then do so and be upfront about it," she reprimanded.

He shrugged and couldn't help the smirk forming on his lips. "Can't help it, professor. Just how I was trained," he said cheekily.

Her mouth twitched upward just the tiniest bit and that was how Harry knew that she wasn't _really_ upset with him.

She quickly straightened her face and quirked an eyebrow. "So, how's it been so far, being back after all this time away?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat with a shrug. If he was being perfectly truthful, he was a bit shocked that she wasn't bombarding him with questions of his stupidity and asking why he took off and stayed gone. He'd expected automatic drilling, yet here she was, treating him like . . . an adult. It was odd. "Fine, I guess. Weird, but fine. I honestly only just got back a few hours ago."

"Weird? How is it weird?" the aging woman asked with concern.

"It's just . . . I've been gone for so long now, you know? I had almost forgotten what it was it like to be known as 'the boy who lived' and now that I'm back, everything I wanted to forget is just being thrown right back in my face."

He blinked, shocked that he'd divulged that much information that fast. But he realized that talking with Professor McGonagall was almost like he was speaking with Professor Dumbledore again.

She nodded in understanding and offered a feeble kind of smile towards him.

He didn't understand. When he had shown up, he had every intention of keeping his past to himself. He didn't want to confide in anybody; he didn't want to face the shame of his betrayal, the hurt of the rejection that followed, the loss of his two best friends. He didn't want any of that. After all, he'd taken a liking to the privacy that he'd gained over the years. But staring at his former head of house triggered something. What, he wasn't sure, but he just knew that he had to talk.

But first, there was something he needed to ask her.

"Professor? About Ron and Hermione . . . what did you mean exactly when you told me about them earlier?" he asked uneasily.

Suddenly, the new headmistress began to fidget in her seat and seemed to be interested in looking anywhere but Harry's direction. "Perhaps another time, Mr. Potter."

Harry's eyes narrowed and he found himself frowning. What was this about? Never in his life had he known his Transfiguration professor to avoid an uncomfortable topic.

"Professor?" he prodded. "What's going on?"

He had that determined edge to his voice and Harry knew that the effect worked when the aging witch sighed and nodded reluctantly. "Very well. Well, I'm sure you've heard by now that Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are no longer together?" An empty feeling overtook him and he dumbly shook his head. He couldn't believe it. He'd thought for sure that they were in it 'til the end. Especially after what had transpired between him and Hermione . . . "Oh, well it was Mr. Weasley that ended the relationship."

"Why?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not sure that it's exactly my place to tell you that, Potter."

"Professor, please? I thought . . ." he shifted uncomfortably and bit his lower lip. "I thought that they were solid. Last I saw, it looked like they were going to make it. What happened?"

Her gaze turned sympathetic and she shook her head. "You might not like the answer, Potter."

He shrugged nonchalantly, even though detachment was the last thing he was feeling. Quite the contrary, his insides were warring with emotion he'd buried years ago. But still, he had to know. He had to know why his best mates were no longer together. "I don't like war, I don't like famine, I don't like Peeves, yet those things still exist, don't they? I've got to deal with them."

Her lips slightly twitched and there was an amused twinkle in her eyes now. But then she sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair. "Do you really want to know, Potter?"

"Yes," he replied stiffly.

He could tell that she didn't want to answer him. He'd never seen her so hesitant with anything and it concerned him a little. What could possibly be that bad that she didn't want to tell him the truth?

"Professor. Tell me the truth. Please," he added quietly.

She sighed and nodded, defeat showing on her face. "Mr. Weasley ended things because of you."

Harry felt like a glass of cold water had been splashed in his face. Ron had broken up with Hermione because of _him_? Did that mean that Hermione had broken down and told him what had happened between them?

No. She wouldn't have done that. They had talked about that night. Both of them had agreed that it was a mistake. In fact, _she_ was the one that told him so first—

"Professor, what are you talking about?" he asked nervously.

Professor McGonagall took her glasses off and her face grew sympathetic. "Mr. Potter, I'm not sure you're aware of what went happened after you left, but things weren't exactly what you'd call normal, especially with Miss Granger."

"I don't understand."

She sighed and sat back in her chair. "She . . . she just had a difficult time dealing with things."

"But when I left, she was fine," he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

She shook her head adamantly, trying to refute his claim. "I don't think you realize just how important you were to Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley."

Harry was getting ready to say something when the entrance opened up again. He turned around in his chair to see his old schoolmate, Neville Longbottom. The Herbology professor's eyes widened in recognition, but Neville quickly composed himself. "Professor, you'd better come quickly. One of the fourth year students is vomiting uncontrollably in the quad and his face is turning three shades of purple."

"George Weasley. I swear, I'm going to box that kid's ears," she said through her teeth. Harry fought back a smirk. He was glad to know that George was still apparently running the joke shop. He took in his former professor's expression and denied himself a burst of laughter that was threatening to escape. She seemed genuinely annoyed and Harry knew better than to correct her and tell her that George only had one ear. "Thank you, Professor Longbottom. We'll continue this later, Potter."

She briskly exited the room, muttering a string of curses under her breath, leaving Harry alone with Neville. He took the opportunity to inspect his former schoolmate and was impressed to see that he wasn't so awkward anymore. Neville had grown up into a tall, lean stature of a man and his face had lost its boyish quality that Harry had always associated with him. Though he was still a bit on the reserved, quiet and shy side, Neville Longbottom had gotten himself confidence on top of everything else, which was even more surprising to Harry.

And judging by the way Neville was looking at him, he half expected his old friend to give him a piece of his mind, but to Harry's surprise, Neville merely offered a weak smile after some time of staring.

Harry reluctantly got out of his seat and stuck out a hand for Neville to take. However, instead of accepting the extended hand, Neville pulled Harry in for a man-hug. "It's good to see you, mate." When they pulled apart, Neville had a huge grin on his face. "What are you doing here? Where's Teddy? Where have you been?"

He laughed at his old schoolmate's bombardment of questions, which caused the other wizard's face to flush pink. "Whoa, breathe Neville. One question at a time."

"What are you doing here?"

Harry shrugged and placed his hands in his pockets. "Work-related."

"Still an Auror?" Harry nodded, as did Neville. "Can't say I'm surprised. Teddy?"

"Back with the nanny in the States. And as for your last question, I'm afraid it's a bit of a long story."

"I've got time. Just give me a minute, though. I'm going to go cancel the rest of my classes."

Harry fought back a smile and he couldn't help feeling happier than he had in a while. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed his awkward friend. It almost saddened him to realize that perhaps awkward wasn't the best way to describe Neville anymore, though. "You don't need to do that, Neville."

The newly instated professor scoffed and waved off Harry's statement. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I do. I haven't seen you in years. I think I can cancel a few classes."

Harry nodded after hearing the determination, knowing better than to argue. So they hurriedly exited the headmistress's office and began walking through the corridors of the castle. He noticed Neville stealing glances in his direction as he took in the sights around him. "Nothing's changed, Harry," he said with a hint of amusement.

"Right," he replied with a smirk. "It's just weird being back here after so long. You'd expect some things to change at least."

"Well, aside from the students and a few new professors, it's all the same." They were walking down to the greenhouses and, while en route, saw a Slytherin getting ready to hex someone from Gryffindor . . . while the other student's back was turned. Typical. Harry was getting ready to intervene when his companion beat him to it. "Oy!" Neville yelled angrily. "McAffery, what do you think you're doing?"

Harry stood by and watched the scene with barely contained delight. This was definitely a change, seeing Neville discipline people like this _and_ strike fear into a Slytherin's face. Part of him wanted to step in and teach this McAffery kid a lesson or two. Normally he didn't like parading around who he was, but he was willing to make an exception in this case because he loathed cowards above all else. But the poor bloke looked scared enough with Neville's presence, so it seemed to be punishment enough for the blonde.

"S-sorry, Professor Longbottom. I'll just be going now," the young student said clumsily.

"Not so fast there, boy. That's going to be a detention and ten points from Slytherin."

The young man in front of them looked outraged while the Gryffindor was clearly trying not to laugh outright at McAffery's punishment. "But that's unfair! I didn't even do anything!"

"How'd you like to make it two detentions and twenty points from Slytherin?" The young man scowled, but nodded, apparently knowing better than to keep arguing. "_Never_ try and hex someone when their back is turned," Neville said stonily. McAffery nodded again and hurried along, running away. "Bloody coward," he mumbled. "You okay, Smith?"

"Yes sir. Thanks for that," he said quietly. The young Gryffindor reminded Harry a lot of Neville back in their school days. Smith had the same unruly hair that Harry still possessed, but had the awkwardness of Neville back before they had formed the D.A.

"No problem. Just do me a favor and watch your back for Slytherins, huh?" he said with a smirk.

Harry fought back a smirk of his own as Neville turned to him with an obvious question resting in his eyes. Harry nodded and said, "It's fine, Neville."

His friend's shoulders sagged with relief and his face brightened considerably. Neville returned his attention to Smith and smiled widely. "Brian, I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine. This is Harry Potter. He and I used to be schoolmates."

Brian's eyes were as large as saucers by now. Harry chuckled at the sight and stuck out a hand. "Nice to meet you, Brian."

The young wizard clumsily took Harry's hand. The Gryffindor looked awestruck and Harry remembered that this part of being "famous" wasn't so terrible. Kids like this looked up to him and saw him as some sort of hero. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to humor their delusions of grandeur about him just this once.

"Do you mind walking with me for a minute, Brian? Neville here was just about to go cancel his classes. I was wondering if you'd like to keep me company while he attended to school business?"

Brian nodded eagerly and Harry laughed. "You go on, I'll catch up with you in a minute," Harry said, still chortling.

The dark-haired boy quickly said goodbye to his professor and started walking ahead like he was asked. Neville turned to Harry and smiled. "Thanks, Harry. He could use a bit of confidence in his life. Brian's got so much potential, he just thinks he's useless."

"Sounds like somebody else I know," Harry replied with a smirk.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll catch up with you in a minute."

After Neville left to head to his classroom, Harry quickly strode up the path to catch up with Brian. The young wizard immediately began chatting animatedly, going on and on about his classes. It was the strangest thing. This Gryffindor reminded him of both Neville and Hermione rolled into one and he found himself chuckling at the stories Brian began telling.

"I really wish I could play Quidditch, though," he said with a small frown.

"Why can't you?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"I'm a horrible at flying. I'd be laughed out of the pitch if I even thought about trying out for the team."

At that point, Neville came into view. He recalled his friend's opinion on the young boy in front of him and smiled. "You know, Brian. I wasn't very good at flying when I first started out, either," he fibbed.

Neville quirked an eyebrow in amusement at the boldfaced lie he'd just told. But, the professor obviously caught on as to what Harry was trying to do. "Oh yeah. He was a ruddy awful flier, Smith. I was probably the only one worse than him in our first flying class."

"But you made the Quidditch team your first year! You couldn't have been _that_ bad," he argued logically.

Harry and Neville both looked at each other, trying to scramble for something else to tell Brian and make him believe that Harry had poor flying skills at first. "Well, I just practiced a lot." Brian shot him a look that very much resembled Hermione's disbelieving frowns. "You're not believing a word of this, are you?"

"No."

"Okay. Truth? I was a natural at flying." Brian's shoulders slumped in disappointment. "But that doesn't mean you can't improve. I'm sure if you practice enough, you'll be great."

"You sound like my parents," Brian mumbled.

"I'm serious! One of my old friends, Ron Weasley—"

Brian's eyes widened once more and his face grew animated. "Ron Weasley? From the Cannons?!"

At least that hadn't blindsided him. Even though Harry may have cut ties with his past, he still kept up with Quidditch while he was away and had been nearly burst with pride when he discovered his best mate had made the Cannons. Ron had always prattled endlessly about them and he'd eventually went on to play for them. No doubt he'd found his ministry position far too tame after the "adventures" they'd been through. Though he wasn't on the team for long, apparently. A while ago, Ron had resigned his position from the team and that had forever stumped Harry.

Though his friend's stay with the team had been short-lived, it was evidently long enough to make an impression on fans.

While the subject made him proud, the mention of his best mate made him a bit nostalgic. He smiled sadly and nodded as Neville glanced over at him sympathetically. "That's right. He was an _awful_ goalkeeper. Remember his first game, Neville?"

Neville made a face and shuddered. "I try to forget it," he replied glumly.

Brian's expression grew curious as Harry continued. "He was so bad that our team's captain came to me in our fifth year and told me she might have to cut him if he didn't improve."

"Really?"

"That is the honest to goodness truth. I promise. And look at him now, he's played professional Quidditch!"

Brian beamed at them and when the clock tolled the next hour, he exclaimed, "Shoot! I'm going to be late. I can make it if I run, though. It was nice meeting you, Harry!" He started running and then yelled over his shoulder, "Thanks for earlier, Professor! See you in class tomorrow!"

Harry and Neville watched in amusement as the adolescent raced towards the castle. Neville smirked at Harry and shook his head as they began heading for the lake. "Thanks for that. You did a nice thing for him."

Harry shrugged as if it were no big deal. Truth was, he was feeling a little overwhelmed. "No biggie. So how have you been, mate? What's teaching like?"

"It's great. I love it. Best decision I ever made to go into Herbology." Neville's face suddenly turned serious and he frowned. "You don't talk about him much, do you?"

"Who?" he asked quietly, feigning dumb, even though he very well knew whom his friend was talking about.

Neville's frown deepened and he folded his arms. "You know who."

"Well no, I reckon I don't talk about Voldemort much, Neville."

"Harry."

"All right, all right," he said with a sigh as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "No. I never talk about Ron. Or Hermione, for that matter."

"Must have been hard for you, mentioning Ron like that to a perfect stranger." Harry shrugged in a noncommittal manner, trying to ignore the pain searing through his chest. "Will you tell me what happened, Harry?" he asked timidly. "You have every right to turn me down—"

Harry shook his head in disagreement. It was time he stopped being a coward about everything. "I can't avoid it forever, Neville. It was nice pretending that I could, but the truth of the matter is, I can't hide for the rest of my life." He paused as they reached the lake and threw his friend a pointed look. "It might take a while to get through everything. But first, I want to ask you something. Do you know what Professor McGonagall was talking about with Ron and Hermione? She reckons they split because of me."

Neville grimaced and nodded reluctantly. "It's not just a 'reckoning', Harry. It's the truth."

"What do you mean?" he said through his teeth. He was getting beyond frustrated by now.

"Well, they tried to keep the reason behind their breakup private, but word spread pretty fast. I witnessed the breakup and I can honestly say that I wish I hadn't. It was really bad. Shortly after he broke things off, Ron got piss drunk one night and Ginny had gone to go find him. When she did, he told her everything. He was a right mess, mate."

"But what exactly does this have to do with me? I wasn't even in the blasted country!"

"That was part of the problem!" he exclaimed and to Harry's surprise, he sounded slightly angry. "Do you realize how many people were devastated when you turned up gone? Did you even _think_ before you left?"

Harry looked away and stared at a fixed point on the ground. "I didn't think anyone would care. Things had gotten so bad by that point that . . ." He sighed and kicked at the ground in frustration. "No. I didn't think when I left, Neville. I just left. I went as fast as I could and didn't look back."

When Harry mustered the guts to look back at his friend, Neville had a mixture of emotions showing on his face: disgust, anger, and sadness . . . disappointment.

"Don't give me that look," he warned.

His face quickly shifted into a guilty expression and he averted Harry's gaze. "What look?"

"That one you just gave me. I think I had a right to finally be a little selfish after everything."

"A little selfish? Harry, we would have understood if you wanted to go, but you just left! You didn't say goodbye to anybody!" Harry gritted his teeth and was about to tell him that wasn't true, but Neville kept rambling on, ignoring him. "Mrs. Weasley was beside herself, Ginny was more than livid, Ron refused to talk about you and got angry when someone tried to mention you, and Hermione . . . well Hermione was a little more complicated than the rest of them."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked with narrowed eyes.

Neville shifted uncomfortably and bit his lip. "I . . ."

"Neville?"

"For the first week or so, she was in complete denial about everything, Harry. She would talk about you like you would come walking through the front door any day and everything would be back to normal again. It was driving Ron bonkers; he took your leaving harder than he'll ever admit.

"Finally, I don't know what happened, but something must have caused Hermione to realize you had really left for good."

"What happened next?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. All I know is that Hermione stopped talking about you. She was herself again, but she wasn't. I know it makes no sense at all. It was strange, bizarre, even. She was the same Hermione we all knew, but closed off. She was different.

"She started shutting everybody out, including Ron. She put up a good front when she was pretending everything was okay, but it made Ron angry, especially when all of us would get together and go out or something. She would laugh and act as if she didn't have a care in the world. But he knew something wasn't right with her and he tried a million times to get her to open up to him. I've never seen somebody try so hard in my life, Harry. He loved her so much and anyone with eyes could see that her distance was killing him a little more every day."

Harry shut his eyes and let his head hang back. He'd been so sure when he left he was doing the right thing. Things were so complicated when he had gone. That night he and Hermione had shared had been magical to him. He knew it sounded corny, but he'd never felt so content in his life, so complete.

And then she told him it was a mistake . . .

"And then?"

"And then Ron couldn't take it anymore. Ron, Hermione, Luna and I were all having dinner together one night. Luna excused herself earlier than we had planned and I was still there, just relaxing with them and catching up. I was gone for five minutes, if that, and when I came back, they were in an awful row. I think they completely forgot that I was even present.

"I had walked in on Ron shouting at Hermione and telling her that he was getting tired of everything. He yelled at her and told her that you were gone and that she needed to accept it and move on with her life. At first, she didn't really argue back; her voice had been eerily calm, actually. That seemed to just piss Ron off even more. Finally, he provoked her into a shouting match. I don't remember a lot of what was said. Honestly I try to forget it.

"Anyway, things ended with Ron telling her that if she wouldn't let you go and _really_ move on that he was finished. I think she was in shock at the ultimatum because she didn't really say anything. Ron apparently took that as something else and said 'fine'. He didn't even give her a chance to explain, really. He just disapparated and left."

Harry was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. This was the last thing he was expecting. Ron must hate him.

"What are you thinking, Harry?" Neville asked a few minutes of utter silence.

He smirked humorlessly and shook his head. "Man, I royally screwed up."

Neville just shrugged and gave him a weak smile. "We all mess up sometimes, mate. The question is, now that you know you screwed up, what are you going to do about it?"

"No idea. I can't imagine anybody is going to be too thrilled to see me."

"Probably not."

"Thanks, Neville," Harry replied sarcastically.

"What? Do you _want_ me to lie to you?"

"Of course not."

"This isn't going to be easy, Harry. You have to prepare yourself if you're seriously going to try and fix the relationships you've neglected for the past five years."

"I want to, I do. It's just that I've spent so much of my time running from everything that it feels like it all happened yesterday. I don't know how I'm going to do this, Neville." He took a deep, unsteady breath and surprisingly felt a lump forming in his throat. "I don't know if I can," he choked.

"Harry, you defeated the darkest wizard of the age. Surely this couldn't be any worse than that."

Harry laughed at that and rubbed a kink in his neck. "This is a little different, I'm afraid. Death Eaters I can handle. This . . . this not so much."

"Well maybe if you hadn't stayed away so long, this wouldn't be so difficult for you," Neville said with a bit of an edge in his tone.

Harry felt himself growing rather annoyed with the man standing in front of him. First the disapproving look he'd received earlier, now this. Couldn't he just choose a mood and stick with it? "Okay, seriously, which is it? Are you happy to see me, or are you pissed at me? Because this back and forth, one-minute-I'm-fine-the-next-I'm-angry is making it a little difficult to keep up. Pick one," he said bluntly.

Neville glared at him and crossed his arms. "Don't push me, Harry. I'm likely to be the only ally you have while you're here besides Luna, of course. You'll probably get the cold shoulder from everybody else for a while. So if you want a friend who doesn't think imaginary creatures like Nargles are real, then I'd say you'll just have to put up with my mood swings," he replied coolly. "And I haven't quiet decided which it is yet. A bit of both, perhaps."

Harry flushed with embarrassment and realized that Neville was right. He had no right to be getting angry like this. This was his screw-up, his fault, and now he'd have to deal with the consequences. So he certainly was in no position to pass up allies. When he faced the Weasleys and Hermione, he'd need all the support he could get.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Neville sighed and tilted his head to the side, apparently studying Harry. "No, I am. I'm happy you're back, I am. But I guess I'm more upset for everybody else than myself. I didn't like seeing my friends so depressed and angry, and now that you're here again, it's going to be like a slap in the face to them."

Harry couldn't stop the immense guilt that began to consume him. Neville was talking like he was _back,_ back. As much as he loved seeing Professor McGonagall, Neville, and his old home again, he knew that he wasn't going to stay. He couldn't; he wouldn't. That chapter of his life was closed.

His friend's eyes narrowed and a saddened expression graced his features. Harry knew right then that the professor realized what he had just been thinking. "You're not staying, are you?"

There was no point in lying. Especially not to Neville, who had been as loyal friend as he could ask for. "No. I'm sorry, but I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because I can't!"

"That's not an answer, Harry," he said as he clenched his fists.

"My life is back in the States now. I've made a home there," he responded truthfully.

"Your home is here and you know it!"

"It _was_. It's not anymore. I'm going to stay long enough to try and maybe repair some of the damage I've caused, but after that . . ." he trailed off and shook his head. "I'm happy back in New York."

"Blimey, Harry. If that's your plan, then you might as well not even bother patching things up! I doubt you're going to get anywhere if your stay here is temporary. Just do your job and go back 'home,' as you like to call it."

"Damn it, Neville. It _is_ my home. Home is not England anymore. I can't just leave the States!"

"You had no problem leaving here on a whim. What's so different now?"

_Count to ten, Harry. Don't get angry. He's your friend—he's just still a little sore at the way you left everyone behind._

He took a deep breath to try and calm himself, which surprisingly worked. "Maybe you'd like to hear my side of things before you proceed to pass judgment on me?"

After an agonizingly protracted silence, the once round-faced boy nodded. "Fine."

"Perhaps we should sit. It may take a while."

"Okay," he said and summoned a blanket. Harry quirked an eyebrow and Neville shrugged. "I come out here to think sometimes. This comes in handy."

Once the blanket was placed neatly on the somewhat damp ground, the two childhood friends plopped down. Neville was flat on his back, staring up at the clouds with his hands behind his head while Harry sat with his elbows on his knees, staring out at the lake. It made him think about Hagrid and wonder how his friend was doing. The thought of Hagrid caused him to glance in the direction towards the old hut and smile.

"Calming, isn't it?" Neville asked as he interrupted Harry's thoughts.

"Yeah."

"Bet they don't have anything like this in New York," he commented.

"No. They don't," he said truthfully. "But New York has its own beauty. If you ever get the chance, you should really go there some time. It's incredible."

"I'll think about it."

They sat in silence for a while longer, just sitting and staring… thinking. Harry didn't know where to start with his story and he was nervous to tell it. It was the first time he would be openly talking about what had happened and he still wasn't quite comfortable with the idea yet.

"Just take your time, Harry," Neville said quietly.

And in that moment, he remembered why he and Neville became friends back in their school days. Sure, he may have gotten a little impatient and moody with him earlier, but he still had Harry's back, no matter what. It was comforting to know that Neville was still going to be on his side through everything.

Harry sighed and shut his eyes, forcing himself to think about what happened those few years earlier. He began to remember . . .

* * *

So some things about this chapter...

First, I'd like to apologize for the scene in Dumbledore's office. I honestly couldn't remember if it had been decided if he was going to be a portrait on the wall or not, but that is something I chose to incorporate for this fiction. So sorry if there are any super detail-oriented readers. Just chalk this up to a fanfiction author's liberty. Lol.

Second, this chapter gave me heaps of trouble, truthfully. I'm not sure if I'm pleased with how it turned out or not. It's better than the mess it was originally, hopefully. It's actually two chapters combined, thus the length. The stuff with Neville was originally a chapter in itself, but after going back and editing, I realized it'd be easier to just merge these two into one.

The Harry I had written originally in the beginning of chapter three was a bit of a douche bag, so I had to cut a whole bunch of crap out. Lol. I must have been in a damned moody/irritable state when I typed up the first draft. Lol. I have all the edits saved, though, so perhaps towards the end, if there's any interest, I'll do an "extras" post or something. You'd get to have a look at Harry's emo-like attitude.

Also, I'd like to say straight up that I doubt there's going to be a lot of Hagrid in this fiction. I like Hagrid and all, but I'm just not that interested in writing him, truthfully. I'll try and incorporate him the best I can, but I don't suspect there will be any actual interaction between him and Harry. If there's a demand for it, though, I may change my mind.

Now for the question I'm sure you're all secretly (or not-so-secretly) asking: when's the Harry/Hermione interaction coming?

Answer: Next chapter. Sort of.

The next two chapters will be a trip down memory lane for Harry. They will be completely in the months following Voldemort's defeat, so you'll get to see what things were like between the trio. Yay! Right? Lol.

And finally, my collective THANK YOU! I'm truly amazed at the response I'm getting for this. It's been added to two additional communities, which was just pretty amazing to me. You guys seriously rock for all of your awesomeness!

Thanks goes to:

**jafr86, pawsrule, Blackangeldust, F5Chaos, FlightFire32, marierr, Wesleyangirl13, pyroseyes, **and** RealityBender.**

Anyway, enough of my prattling. I hope you all enjoyed it :D Once again, reviews are welcome! Hopefully this wasn't too terrible.


	4. Chapter 4

"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 4

* * *

_Five and a half years earlier_

Harry sat in front of the fireplace at Number 12 Grimmauld Place just staring.

He was tired. Tired of feeling so damn depressed all the time, tired of feeling drawn to those damn books in the library. He knew he should throw them out, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to.

He didn't know what was going on with him, honestly. He should be elated, on top of the world. He defeated the darkest wizard of the age, he was back together with Ginny, and he'd been informed after the war was over that Ron, Hermione, and himself were all exempt from returning to finish their schooling if they wished.

A small smile graced his lips as he thought back to Ron's reaction. He'd been giddy with excitement at the news. That had been the first time in a while he'd seen his best mate so happy. It was Hermione who had shocked both Ron and Harry because she'd accepted the offer as well.

Harry and Ron both had expected her to go back to Hogwarts as soon as the new term started. They both knew how she felt about getting a full and complete education. Of course, when the minister of magic tells you that you could virtually go into any field you wished, school would seem rather silly. Perhaps she knew what he and Ron both knew: they couldn't go back. It was time for them to move forward and get on with their lives.

They'd all lost so much after the final battle and it changed them in ways they'd never thought possible. While it was a cause for celebration, it was also a cause for heartache. So many people had lost their lives. School just seemed trivial after everything the three of them had gone through in the last year. And he supposed he really shouldn't be surprised that Hermione recognized this. She'd changed as a result of the war as well, just as everyone else had.

But while she had elected to forgo school, she did not, however, waste any time in choosing her career path. She'd declared her field as healing, whereas Ron opted to go for a job in the ministry. Harry was immediately accepted into the Auror program and that's where he stood now.

He'd been granted a vacation, but he had declined. He needed to do something instead of just sitting on his bum. But, as it was, his field was rather dull at the moment. Any dark wizards roaming about were lying extremely low and there was little to no activity.

He was getting frustrated. He wanted to _do_ something.

The first thing he should probably do was get out of this damn library. It wasn't doing him any good sitting here, that much he was certain of. He was drowning with all of these books on dark magic. But he was in a dark place. It was one he wanted to get out of, but he just couldn't seem to do it. At least not alone. He needed help, yet he wasn't willing to worry his friends or put them through anything else. They were moving on with their lives and he needed to as well.

He should probably start with taking care of his godson. Since the ending of the war, he'd been staying with Tonks' parents, but Harry knew he needed to remedy that. He just needed to pull himself together before he could even think about taking care of another human being.

"Harry?" called an uncertain voice.

Ron.

He stayed silent, knowing that if he didn't say anything, Ron would just leave him be. He and Hermione had been trying to get him to go out of the house for months now. Honestly, it didn't interest him. He just wanted to be left alone. He would start pulling himself together tomorrow.

"Harry, Hermione and I are going to the Burrow. Do you want to come?" Still, he ignored his friend. No, he didn't want to go to the Burrow. He didn't want to see George without his twin; he didn't want to see the grief in all of the Weasley's eyes at the loss they had suffered. No thanks. "Harry?"

"No."

"Harry it's been six months—"

"Yeah, I know how long it's been. I don't need reminding, thanks."

"So what then? You're just going to sit up here all day and ignore everybody?" Once again, Harry remained silent and set his jaw. He was getting annoyed—Ron usually didn't prod this much. He'd expected the redhead to be gone by now. "Fine."

Moments later, a door slammed shut and Harry smirked in quiet victory. Sometimes, his best mate was so predictable.

However, mere seconds later, that same grin that had slowly developed, faded when he heard the door swing open. Great. Now _this_ he hadn't been anticipating. He certainly hadn't thought that Ron would stoop this low and bring in reinforcements. He didn't even need to turn around to know who greeted him. The smell alone was invading his senses. A sweet, flowery smell consumed him and his jaw clenched. It wasn't an overpowering scent. How could it be, considering the person whom it was emanating from? But it was enough for Harry to notice. Hermione. She wouldn't be quite as easy to get rid of.

"Harry, we're going to the Burrow."

"Yeah, I know. Ron's already told me. Have fun," he replied with an unintentional distance to his tone.

"No. I mean _we're_ going to the Burrow. All three of us," she said with determination.

"I believe you're mistaken, Hermione. You see, I told Ron that I wasn't goi—"

"I know what you said and quite frankly, I don't care. You're coming with us."

He didn't move from his position, didn't even glance at her. He simply sat there and put equal determination in his own tone. "No I'm not."

"Why?"

Harry blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. Not in the slightest. The question caught him so off guard that he actually got up and turned towards her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Why? Why aren't you going to the Burrow, Harry?"

Nobody had ever asked him that before. In all the times that Hermione and Ron visited the Burrow without Harry, no one had ever asked him—not once—why he was staying away. The question threw him slightly off balance and for a moment, he just stood there, not saying a word.

Honestly, he believed it was a rather silly question in the first place. The dark-haired wizard should expect the answer to be obvious.

"Harry?" she prodded stubbornly. "Why?"

Much to Harry's unpleasant surprise, he felt annoying, unwanted, useless tears welling up in his eyes. His throat became so tight it was a wonder he could breathe properly. He wasn't going to cry . . .

"I can't."

"You mean you won't," she countered.

Anger erupted within the deepest pits of his soul, soon overpowering the tears threatening to escape. Those were quickly forgotten. Who was she to tell him what he meant or didn't? "No, I mean I CAN'T, damn it! I can't go back there!"

"Why?"

"Stop asking me that."

"Why?"

"I'm being serious, Hermione. Stop pushing me!"

A disgruntled snort came out of her and Harry felt annoyance as she smirked sarcastically at him. "Come on. You know me better than that. I'll not stop pushing this. It's been ignored for far too long."

"What are you talking about? You've done nothing _but_ badger me!" he pointed out truthfully.

"Someone should!"

"Oh and that someone's you? I don't need to be babied like this!"

"Then stop acting like one!"

Harry clenched his fists, but he forced himself to calm down. Hermione had a way of getting to him that nobody else had quite yet mastered. "That's enough. You should go," he said curtly.

"I will not. It's high time you faced this, Harry. You've been pushing Ron away for months, ignoring his family—_your_ family—and you've been taking your bloody anger out on me and I'm about tired of it! I'll tell you one thing, I won't have it anymore."

She lifted her chin in defiance and Harry knew that she was going to stand her ground on this. She was a damn stubborn woman; she had been for as long as he could remember. And honestly, he couldn't recall a time of her ever looking more beautiful than she did right then. Her cheeks were blushing slightly from her temper, her arms were folded under her chest, and her eyes were sparkling with a passion Harry had never seen in her before.

He had an overwhelming desire to kiss her as he was peering down at her, but as he made a move towards her, he suddenly remembered that she wasn't his to kiss. She was Ron's girl and she always had been. Never once had she shown a spark of interest in him in any romantic sense.

What the bloody hell was he thinking?

Quick answer was, of course, that he wasn't thinking.

Out of pure instinct, he immediately moved away from her. He turned his back on her, though it killed him to have to do it. But he needed to put distance between them. His emotions had been out of control with her recently and she was utterly oblivious to it all. If he were being honest with himself, she was one of the reasons he was avoiding being apart of the "Golden Trio" as they had been deemed, evidently. Every time he had to watch Ron give her even the most innocent of kisses, or watch them hold hands while sitting in front of the fireplace, his thoughts went on a rampage.

All he could think was that should be _him_ kissing her or that it should be _him_ holding her hand or running his fingers through her hair. Seeing them together was slowly killing him.

Harry honestly hadn't been quite sure what he had been thinking when he agreed to live together with Ron. Nearly as soon as the war was over, he'd found an apartment and invited Ron to stay with him; perhaps he did so because it felt like it would be expected of him. It had always been the plan, anyway. The pair had talked about it endlessly during their school years.

So naturally, Ron had agreed immediately. They were living in a true bachelor pad, much to Hermione's disgust. He had suggested Grimmauld Place before he showed Ron the apartment, but his best mate had wrinkled his nose in distaste. He had declared the place cool for headquarters, but it still had a lot of work to be done before it was even remotely livable.

Harry had agreed whole-heartedly and despite having a place of their own already, all three of them decided to make Grimmauld Place a project to pass the time. They fixed it up with a surprising amount of speed and it actually had a rather cheerful disposition to it now. However, that was probably mostly thanks to Hermione. She had a way with fixing things up—just like she attempted to fix their apartment up, but Harry and Ron both had put their foot down on that one. They both quite liked their bachelor pad.

It was true that she had her own place now, but she might as well be a third occupant. And they weren't exactly quiet about it, either.

After one particularly loud night, Harry elected to purchase a television to try and drown out the sounds, since apparently neither of his friends knew how to put up a simple silencing charm.

Consequently, his purchase soon became a favorite of Ron's. The pureblood wizard who had never had the luxury of a television before was simply fascinated with them. So they had taken to watching old movies, usually horror, and he always had a difficult time focusing on the movie. The young man's eyes usually ended up shifting towards Hermione, who would be curled into Ron while she was intently watching the movie, no doubt trying to figure out who the killer was. It killed him every time to watch the way she would turn to Ron during a scary movie—even though Ron was jumping out of his chair most of the time as well. Harry found it was harder and harder to breathe.

Soon after that, he began to feel as though his friends didn't need him anymore. Any problems they had, they turned to each other to deal. They tried to include Harry, but he often wound up feeling like a third wheel, despite having Ginny.

So he distanced himself because he didn't want to resent Ron for landing the girl, which was slowly becoming the case.

"Harry, please. Talk to me."

"Hermione, there are things that you couldn't possibly begin to understand about me," he said quietly.

"Then help me to. At least then you'd be talking to me."

"I talk to you," he said defensively.

"When? When was the last time you sat down with me and had a _real_ conversation?" He stayed silent because he had no answer to offer her. It had been a while since they'd really sat down to talk, just the two of them. "You've been shutting me out and I can't stand it anymore. Let me help you. Just let me in, please. Let _somebody _in. I miss you," she said quietly.

He didn't dare look at her. He didn't want to see the vulnerability in her eyes that he knew was bound to be present. He knew her well enough by now to know the expressions that came with her tones.

"Fine. I'll go with you."

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he could imagine that Hermione was smiling from ear to ear. He let out a small 'oof' as he felt a pair of feminine arms tighten around his waist. "Thank you."

Reluctantly, he turned around and returned her embrace. But as he hugged her, he scowled and placed both hands on her shoulders to push them apart so he could give her the most intense stare he could muster. He couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of satisfaction as he noticed Hermione's cheeks turn a deep crimson color at his scrutiny. So he did have an effect on her after all. Well, he wasn't sure if that made it better or worse knowing that the attraction wasn't one-sided. "I'll go on one condition."

"Name it."

"As soon as I want to leave, I get to leave. No trying to coerce me into staying, no asking me why I want to leave . . . just let me go," he said as gazed intently into her big chocolate brown eyes.

She bit her lip as she nodded. "Okay."

He couldn't help but notice the huskiness in her voice. He shouldn't be noticing these things. Not about _her_. It was _Hermione_ for goodness' sake. By all rights, he should have looked away, damn it. He should have tousled her hair playfully to break the tension, or made some lame joke, but he couldn't.

But she wasn't making any attempts to move away either, which made it that much harder to will himself to push her away.

Instead of moving further away which is what they should have done, they moved closer. A piece of stray hair was hanging over her face and Harry gently brushed it back with the tips of his fingers. She wasn't looking away, wasn't moving back, and she didn't try to make any excuses for why they _shouldn't_ be doing what they were about to do.

When he realized she was staying put, he smiled and ran his fingers through her hair as he bent his head to lean in for the kiss he'd been secretly longing for for months now. Their mouths were centimeters apart and he could practically feel her lips on his already.

She was leaning in to close the distance when they heard clatter outside in the hallway. They quickly sprung apart just in time as Ron peeked his head in the entranceway with a big grin on his face. "What's taking you two so long? I thought you'd both have been downstairs already," he said with a slightly raised eyebrow.

Harry was scrambling for an excuse to give him. He highly doubted that Ron would appreciate the truth. "Sorry mate, but I was getting ready to snog your girlfriend. Shall we be off to the Burrow, now?"

His mind turned up blank as he fumbled for anything to say to the redhead standing in the doorway. But luckily he didn't have to think of one, as Hermione spoke up. "Sorry, Ron. It was a little harder to convince him than I thought it would be."

"Well, you _did_ convince him, didn't you?"

"Of course," she said with a rather smug look. "You know he always listens to me."

Harry feigned a scowl and playfully shoved her out of his way as he went over to his best mate and slung an arm over his shoulder as he pushed the guilt of what had almost occurred out of the way. "What can I say? She has a way of twisting my arm. I just can't say no to her."

"She has that affect on people, me included. She's especially good at twisting my arm in the bedroom," he added under his breath. Harry cringed.

"Ron!" she exclaimed indignantly and shot him a death glare that made Ron cower and hide behind Harry. As much as Ron's statement made him sick to his stomach, he couldn't help but laugh at the situation.

"Sorry, honey. Won't happen again."

She let out an annoyed huff and folded her arms. "Sure it won't," she claimed as she stomped out of the room.

As the two young wizards stared at her retreating backside, Harry smirked at Ron. "That's totally going to happen again, isn't it?"

"Probably, yeah." Harry laughed and Ron smiled. "Not to get all girly on you, but that's a nice sound to hear, mate. Haven't heard much of it lately."

"Yeah . . ." He avoided his friend's gaze as guilt washed over him. Here Ron was, worrying about how much he laughed, and Harry was ready to kiss a girlfriend who wasn't his. And the sick thing was if he had the opportunity to try again, he'd probably take it. He tried to shake it off, though.

"Listen, I'm really glad you're coming with us," Ron said cheerfully.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Well, Mum's been asking about you constantly. I'm running out of excuses to give her. Last week I told her you had to go into work for an emergency. The week before I said you were feeling peekish. I think she's going to notice if I just start rotating my excuses."

While that seemed like good as explanation as any, Harry knew Ron Weasley like the back of his hand. There was something else he wasn't telling. Harry raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. "And?"

A grin spread across Ron's face as he shoved his fists in his pockets. "And George has a new prototype that he needs to test for the joke shop."

"Let me guess. You were supposed to be the test-dummy?"

"Yeah. I've been to his house while he's testing stuff out and the explosions were making me a little nervous."

"So now I'm the scapegoat?"

"Pretty much. Yeah."

Harry chuckled and began heading for the door. "Let's get going, huh? The last thing we need is to—"

"Ron! Let's go! Your mum's waiting!" Hermione yelled up the stairs.

Both boys cringed at the tone in her voice and Harry finished what he was about to say before Hermione screamed at them. "Piss Hermione off."

Ron and Harry glanced at each other with mischievous smirks and burst out into laughter as she yelled, "RON!" once more up the stairs.

* * *

Lunch was a disaster.

Everything started out brilliantly, though. He'd had more fun than he had in quite a while. He and Mr. Weasley sat down and chatted about various muggle trinkets and he'd also asked Harry about work and such. Mrs. Weasley was ecstatic that he showed up and was giving Harry recipe after recipe because she was convinced that he was looking underfed. Of course, that hadn't changed much. Ever since he first started coming to the Burrow, she was convinced he was starving.

The prototype George was working on got a laugh out everyone, Harry included. In fact, Harry probably laughed the hardest out of any of them. The product was a smelly whoopee cushion, and though Harry's cheeks had redden, he could still appreciate the humor behind it.

It was nice, just laughing and having a good time with his family. There were a few times early on in the day where he thought he was going to leave before they ate because it wasn't all sunshine and daisies. Grief was still heavy in the air, but he could tell that they were trying their best to be normal around him, so he sucked it up and dealt with it.

It was during the meal when things got sticky. Naturally, Ginny sat next to him, which he hadn't minded of course. At first, he'd actually welcomed her presence. They hadn't spent that much time together earlier, as he was busy chatting with the rest of the family. He should have been spending every second with her because she was busy finishing school, so they rarely saw each other. Things were different, though.

He tried talking to her, he tried being normal for her, but he couldn't seem to do it. The conversation felt forced and in fact, every conversation he seemed to have with her lately felt false. It wasn't that he she was doing anything wrong, he just couldn't feel that spark he'd once had with her. And it had been missing for quite some time. He didn't think about her as much as he used to and whenever they _were_ together, the company wasn't as enjoyable as he remembered it to be.

This conversation helped remind him of that and it made him slightly uncomfortable because he could see the eagerness in her eyes to try and get their relationship back on track, but they were thinking two completely different things. He'd hoped that time would heal things between them after the war and that things could go back to normal, but it seemed the only thing that time did was make matters worse.

An altogether unpleasant realization came into focus as he stole a glance at his girlfriend. He was going to have to end things. That's just all there was to it. It wouldn't be fair to keep this façade that everything would be all right in the end. Besides, the events that had transpired between Hermione and himself earlier put everything into a slightly new perspective for him. Even though he knew nothing further would likely happen and it was probably just a fluke, for her at least, it helped him realize that the fire with Ginny had faded out.

Guilt crashed into his system like a tidal wave, threatening to swallow him whole as thoughts about another girl were running ramped in his mind and he quickly averted Ginny's questioning stare. Through his peripheral vision, he could see her scowling at the distance he had no doubt she recognized. She was far from stupid, after all. Instead of giving the rising complication more thought, though, he focused attention on talking to George.

"So how are things at the joke shop, mate?"

"Good, really good. It was sticky for a while; thought we—_I_ was going to have to close it up . . ." he trailed off with a saddened glaze in his eyes and Harry instantly felt horrible. This wasn't the first mention of Fred today.

George still sometimes used 'we' without even realizing it. It had simply made Harry uncomfortable before, but now that George had corrected himself, it seemed worse. It didn't help that he'd caught Mrs. Weasley in one of the back rooms staring at a picture of Fred, crying her eyes out only to come out minutes later like nothing was wrong. He shut his eyes as grief consumed him and he abruptly excused himself from the table. This was too much; it was too soon.

He quickly walked out to the backyard and felt anger and frustration bubbling up inside of him.

How could he have thought this was going to be okay? It was never going to be okay. Fred was his brother—blood or no—and he was gone. He should _be here_, damn it. It wasn't fair! They were good people in there and they suffered far too much loss. While he knew it wasn't his fault, it still _felt_ like it was.

"Harry?" a timid voice questioned.

Annoyance filled him as he heard Ginny calling out to him. "What?" he asked crossly. He knew very well that it wasn't fair of him to direct his anger and grief at her, but at that moment, he couldn't seem to help himself. Couldn't she see that he just wanted to be left alone? Alone was what he was good at. He was used to alone.

"There's no need to be so cross with me," she said with a bit of a snap. "I just came out here because I want to help you," she finished with a much gentler tone. "If you'll let me."

"I don't need help. What I _need _is to be left alone right now. Just leave me be, Gin."

"Harry, don't be like this, please. There are people here who want to be there for you. You think you're the only one who's suffering right now? We've _all _lost people. You don't have to go through it all by yourself."

Good Christ, what the hell was going on? First Hermione was trying to tell him what he was actually thinking when she didn't have a clue and now Ginny was trying to tell him how to act! He grit his teeth together and bit back a curse. He was about tired of everybody's blasted nosiness!

His patience was running thin and he grit his teeth together, hoping she would take the hint and realize he wasn't in the mood to be nagged at. "You know something? I don't need to be told how to be like!"

"Are you sure about that, because you're just being downright _rude_," she said crossly. Apparently she didn't know how to take that hint he'd been dropping because she kept going. "Honestly, I know you're going through a lot right now, but there's no reason for you to take it out on everybody else!"

In that moment, something inside of him snapped. It was like he was a ticking bomb and his time was up. All the hurt and rage he'd been concealing these past few months became unhinged and he rounded on Ginny, taking his temper out on her.

"If you're such a genius, then why don't you tell me how I'm supposed to handle this then, because I'm at a loss, Gin! Tell me what to do, please, because I don't _fucking_ know how to be!"

Harry blinked in shock and watched in his own kind of fear as Ginny's eyes widened in fright at his outburst. But instead of yelling or screaming some more, she took a tentative step towards him. What was she doing? She should be running for the hills after that. He wasn't aware he even had that kind of anger inside him. He hadn't known it was possible for him to have an outburst like that. Sure, he had a few screaming tantrums in his fifth year, but that was different. This was a whole other level of outrage. He certainly hadn't meant to yell and curse at her like that. It just . . . happened.

Confusion crept onto his features as she continued making her way towards him. Seriously, what was she doing? He just behaved like a bloody tyrant and she was still moving _towards_ him? He studied her warily, as though _she _were the one who had just had a fit of rage, and as she continued moving closer, she offered him a wobbly, pathetic attempt at a smile.

It was only when she placed her hand on his cheek to wipe a tear away that he realized he was crying. Her eyes were filled with sympathy and as he looked a little closer, he saw her own pain hidden as well as her own grief. It stung like a slap in the face. He really was a selfish bastard, wasn't he?

Feeling ashamed of his behavior, he sucked up his anger and frustration and pulled her into his arms, despite the fact that he knew how wrong it was. It was wrong because he knew very well that that he was leading her on. He knew that she would interpret this as something more than him offering her comfort. He knew it would give her hope. False hope that she didn't deserve to have waved in her face.

But he couldn't bring himself to move away from her either. In a way, she was offering him comfort too. This was the first time since the defeat of Voldemort that he had just let himself go completely. He hadn't allowed himself to cry before. His entire body was shaking with sobs as he buried his head into the crook of Ginny's shoulder.

Crying felt strangely liberating.

"I can't do this anymore, Gin," he managed to choke out. Though he wasn't quite sure she could understand what he said because the words came out muffled.

Once his tears subsided and he pulled himself together, he removed his face from her shoulder and when he looked up, he felt horrible. Hermione was standing in the doorway, watching the scene unfold. And Harry was well aware how this looked because he could see the devastation written all over his best friend's face. This wasn't right. It shouldn't be Ginny comforting him and he suddenly felt as though he were betraying Hermione.

They locked eyes and then something odd happened. She closed herself off from him. A mask hid any emotion she may have been feeling and his entire world shifted. She never hid from him. Not ever. They were always open and honest with each other, even if sometimes that honesty led to fights and not speaking to one another. But now, he realized that he had no clue what she was thinking and he silently cursed at himself as she walked away.

He pulled back from Ginny and cleared his throat. "Ginny, I'm sorry."

A look that could only be described as perplexed crossed Ginny's face. "What are you sorry for? I'm your girlfriend. I'm supposed to be there for you when stuff like this happens."

"Well for one, I'm sorry for my outburst just now."

She scoffed and waved her hand as if said event hadn't been completely out of line, not to mention out of character. He knew then that it was time to end things. This wasn't the Ginny he remembered falling in love with. This Ginny was trying to grab onto any thing she could to keep their relationship from falling apart and it broke his heart a little bit. Where was the Ginny that wouldn't stand for any of what just happened? "It's fine. You—"

"It's not fine! And the fact that you're saying it _was_ fine tells me that something is very wrong here. Before, you never would have put up with an outburst like that! Now you're practically rolling over and playing dead! That's not you!"

"Well what do you want me to do Harry? Because when I fight back you basically tell me to piss off and if I don't fight back, you accuse me of being different! It's a lose-lose for me, anyway!" she said heatedly.

He rubbed his temples to try and dissuade the headache he felt coming on. He had a feeling this argument was far from over. And the words that Ginny spoke next told him he was right in his assumption.

"Half the time I don't even know what's going on with you! You never let me see you anymore!"

"Never _let _you see me? What the hell's that supposed to mean? I've owled you about a thousand times trying to get together and it's _you_ whose always got some excuse!"

"_Don't_ pull that shit with me, Harry! Don't try and blame this on me because we both know whose bloody fault this is! You've been avoiding everyone for months now. It's like you won't let anybody near you!"

"That's absurd! You know, people know where I live, too! They're welcome to come over any time!"

"Is that so? Because from what I hear it's a different story. Neville told me he's tried for ages to come over and see you, but you're always 'too busy' with work or already have plans. Same thing with George! He's wanted to talk to you for a long time but you've been cooped up in your fancy new flat ignoring everything around you!"

"This is ridiculous," Harry muttered through his teeth. "People see me!"

"Like who? My brother? He lives with you so that doesn't exactly count, does it?" He grit his teeth together once more and ignored her prodding. Now she was just being ridiculous. "Hermione?" she hissed out next. Harry stiffened at that. This was not going to be a very nice conversation. "Sorry, Harry, but she doesn't count, either."

His attention snapped right towards her at the tone of her voice and his anger started bubbling up all over again. "Do not drag her into this. She has nothing to do with this fight, Ginny."

"Doesn't she? You know, I thought Cho was over-exaggerating about why you two broke things off, but now I'm not so sure. Why is it that she seems to know more about you then your own girlfriend? How much sense does that make?! It's not normal!"

"Don't get pissed off at me because she listens to me and pays attention! It's not her fault she actually _knows_ me!"

"Damn it, I'm _trying_ to know you! Can't you see that? You just won't let me in!"

He wiped a hand over his face and felt himself growing irritated with the situation. This fight was the last thing he wanted to be having.

Perhaps the only way for her to take a hint was for him to be a jackass, more so than he had been. He just couldn't see any other way for her to accept it. He didn't want to and he felt his gut clenching at the thought. It wasn't right for him to be deliberately cold to her, but he was at his wits end here.

"And did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn't _want_ to?" he asked, straight-faced. He made sure his face betrayed none of the regret he was feeling and he could see that it worked.

Her face paled slightly, and then after she took a moment to collect herself, she raised her chin again.

"You know something . . . I think I've made allowances for your behavior long enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What that means is that while you've been holed up in your flat or Grimmauld Place sulking and shutting the world out, I've _needed_ you! Didn't you ever once stop to think that I might possibly need support in this, too? These last few months have been horrible around here. When I'm home from school, I wake up in the morning expecting to see my brother walk through the front door any minute and ask everybody what they were all moping about for, but it never happens," she said with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry if I haven't exactly been the best girlfriend lately, but Fred was my brother! There have been days when I wasn't quite sure I remembered how to function properly because I've been so sad and depressed."

Harry sighed and looked skyward. What she said made him feel like a heel, but how the hell was he supposed to be there for her when he barely knew how to make it through the days himself sometimes? He was a wreck and he wasn't good for her. She deserved somebody who wasn't quite as messed up as he was.

"I'm sorry. I know you've been hurting. Maybe that's part of the reason why I've been staying away. I just . . . I'm not good for you, okay? I can't be there for you like you need me to be."

The tears she'd held in her eyes moments earlier slowly began to trickle down her cheeks and she shook her head. "I don't believe that. You _are_ good for me! Things are just a little diff—" Harry placed a hand on her cheek and she sucked in her breath. "Things are just a little difficult right now," she whispered.

"Ginny," he said with a resigned sigh.

Her eyes shut and she leaned into his hand. "It's over, isn't it?"

"I think so," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged and offered a weak smile, "It's okay. I think I've known it was for a while now. I guess that's partly why I've been putting off seeing you," she offered.

Harry grinned, "So I was right about that, yeah?"

He was fairly surprised when a small laugh escaped her and she seemed genuinely amused. "Yeah, you were. I guess I just didn't want to take responsibility for my actions and tried to blame you. Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"I am too. It's just, I want what's best for you, Gin, and I don't think I'm it. I'm a mess," he stated truthfully. "You deserve better than me. You deserve someone who can be there for you right now and I just can't be that person for you."

"I wish I could I say understood, Harry. But you need to do what you need to do." Some moments of silence passed between the pair and he glanced over at Ginny who had an unreadable expression on her face. "There's nothing I can do to change your mind?" she offered weakly.

Harry sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I think we both know the answer to that."

"Right."

At that, Harry thought the conversation was finished and was turning around to head back inside when Ginny stopped him. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"What I said earlier about Hermione . . . I didn't mean it."

He couldn't help but smile as he nodded. "I know you didn't. It's fine. I know you're friends with her. You wouldn't say anything to intentionally hurt her."

"You're right. I wouldn't. She's a good friend." She grew pensive and she returned his smile after a moment's hesitation. "It's funny. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about her dating my brother, but now that it's actually happening, it makes sense. I like them together better than Lavender Brown anyway," she said with a shudder and Harry couldn't help but cringe at that once-upon-a-time relationship. "She'll make a much nicer sister-in-law one day."

Harry paled and felt like he'd been sucker-punched and his heart sank all the way to the ground. Marriage? Ron and Hermione? He knew they were serious, but he was barely making it through with them dating. Could he handle a marriage between them? Would he be able to face that if and when the time came?

The possibility was rather unpleasant and he wanted to forget Ginny ever mentioned having Hermione as a future sister-in-law. He thought he might vomit.

"Harry, are you okay? You look like you're going to be sick."

He nodded, but his throat felt dry and he didn't really trust himself to speak at the moment.

"You're sure?" she asked, clearly skeptical. When he nodded again, she did the same. "Okay then, I'm going to head inside. Are you coming?"

He didn't know how he did it, but he actually managed to form a sentence without sounding entirely pathetic. "No. I actually think I'm going to disapparate and head home."

Her eyes slightly widened and she looked genuinely concerned. "Why? It's not because of what just happened is it?" When Harry sighed and didn't say anything, she continued rambling on. "Because if it is, I swear I'll hex whoever gives you a hard time for this. You shouldn't feel uncomfortable around your family just because we've broken things off."

Harry actually smiled at that and shook his head. "I appreciate your fervor, Ginny, but no. That's not it at all, honestly. It's just been a long day. I need to take this one step at a time and this was a very large first step for me. You have no idea."

"If you're sure," she said uncertainly.

"Positive." Ginny nodded and turned to head back inside as Harry shoved his fists in his pockets. "Gin?" She paused and he uncomfortably cleared his throat as he shifted his weight rather nervously. "I am sorry."

"I know. Take care, Harry. I'll tell the others you've gone home."

"Thanks."

As he watched her retreating form, he should have felt relieved that the breakup went so smoothly, despite how rocky it started. Ginny didn't appear to be too angry with him, though things may have felt a little awkward before she went inside, and he felt like some kind of weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

So why did everything still feel so wrong?

* * *

Sorry it's been a little while! I was concentrating on an original story over at fiction press that really needed to be updated, which it has been, so I resumed my attention on this.

Anyway, once again, I've taken some fanfiction liberties with the school issue. I think Hermione goes back to school, but I never really got into the whole 'extra' stuff provided.

I tried really hard not to make this seem like Ginny bashing or anything. Because I love Ginny to pieces--I love the spunk she's got in her. But I'm not sure if I got away with it or not. Lol. If you can't tell already, I'm a worrier. I fret over stuff like this, so just ignore me. Heh.

And I have to say that I'm amazed, truly. Nothing I've written in the past has gotten quite this much response in the beginning chapters. I'm just a little blown away with everything and it's inspired me to work that much harder to make sure it doesn't end up sucking. Lol. I hope you all continue to enjoy it. I will say, though, that some of the reviews made me laugh a little. Most of you are convinced now that Hermione's pregnant. That makes me really giggle. I normally don't spoil things, but I decided to just give it up and say flat out that she's not. I promise that Hermione's not with child. When I started this story, I'd toyed with the idea, but then I figured it's probably been done a whole hell of a lot and decided against that route.

And to **White-Knights**, I have to say kudos to you. You are the first person to point out the fishiness behind suspecting Lucius Malfoy. There's a reason behind it and keep in mind that Harry finds this whole assignment to be very strange and unusual. The things you pointed out didn't escape Harry's attention, but he has had other things on his mind. He was too focused on the fact that he was being forced to go back home, so he was in a bit of shock. So I give you a hearty pat on the back for being a careful reader!

Thanks this time around (bold names are signed reviews, bold/italics are anonymous):

**Farrah Aabit, crazybookwormgirl, bexisl, jafr86, pawsrule, robst, F5Chaos, White-Knights **(2-times)**, carbon12.011, ren-san, Wesleyangirl13, randomharmony13, kingswriter** (3-times)**, xBloodSplatter, Starman800, rachelalexandra, lollapalozzafanatic83, _bernadette aquino_, eSJa, **and**laurieoflove.**

I think I got everyone. My apologies if I missed anyone and please let me know if I spelled anything wrong. I'll go back and fix it ASAP. Also, if you'd like an individual review reply, please make sure you enable your PM function, otherwise I won't be able to respond to you.

I think that about does it this time around. I hope you all enjoy the chapter! Next chapter is also in the past, then after that, we'll be back in the present time.


	5. Chapter 5

"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 5

* * *

_Six Months Later_

Since his breakup with Ginny, things had been different. It wasn't because any of the Weasleys were upset with him for ending things—it was because he himself was making things different.

The last bit of his conversation with Ginny kept taunting him, playing in his mind on repeat and it never went away. He couldn't get the thought that Ron and Hermione were going to be married out of his head. It was six months later and they were _still_ together, despite many fights that had occurred recently.

Something inside of him changed when he realized that his two best friends very well _could_ get married one day. He began seeing Hermione in an entirely different light. His feelings for her became magnified and twenty times more noticeable than they were before. Jealousy would spark at the smallest of touches Ron gave her and there was a voice in the back of his mind that always wanted to claim her as his.

But she wasn't. And she had made that fact very clear.

For the last six months, she had been avoiding him. And he'd been avoiding her as well.

He supposed the whole mess started after the two kisses they shared. The first one had been incredibly awkward and very short-lived. He was surprised there had even been a second kiss. But there had been and that second kiss had most definitely not been awkward. It had been anything _but_ awkward. It had zinged with passion and had left his breathing choppy and his hair a mess because of the fingers that had been running through it.

And, consequently, Hermione and he had both felt awful about what they had done. They'd betrayed their best friend and it wasn't sitting well with them at all. It seemed as though they could no longer speak to each other and maintain eye contact at the same time. The kiss had caused them to be skittish around each other and they avoided being in close quarters as much as possible.

They spoke to each other, sure, but the conversations were always safe and they were almost always held with both of them on opposite sides of the room. She never pushed him anymore as she used to. She never tried to get him to go out with her and Ron. It was as though she were screaming, "Don't come anywhere near me, Harry."

Part of him wanted to talk to her about everything, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Besides, this was all working out rather perfectly, actually.

During one of his many late nights in the office, he'd come to a decision: he was leaving England. For good. It was just too hard here. So many unpleasant memories surrounded him and since getting all the necessary paperwork in order, he was now officially a legal guardian and he didn't think he could do a good job raising Teddy here. The press was constantly invading his privacy and all of it was just giving him an unwanted, constant headache.

Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair as he rubbed his face. The clock told him it was much past time to go home, but really what was the point? If he went back to his apartment, he'd risk hearing, or seeing, Ron and Hermione engaged in . . . er, couple, activities. Either that, or he'd have to hear another fight and he didn't want to do that either. It was a lose-lose.

He was having less and less incentive to return to the apartment, so he heaved a frustrated sigh and concluded that there was only one other place for him to go if he wasn't going to sleep in his office. After he finished organizing his desk for tomorrow's workload, Harry apparated to Grimmauld Place. Teddy was at the Weasleys' for the night, so thankfully, he didn't have to worry about picking him up.

Once to his godfather's old home, he loosened his tie and began stripping off his work robes. After he was down to just his boxers, he collapsed on the couch and with much effort, rolled over onto his back.

He didn't know how much longer he could do this. Working the long hours to avoid having to go home was driving him mad and exhausting him. He barely had any time for his godson anymore and he was about tired of it.

That realization helped him to decide that his plan was going to have to be executed sooner, rather than later. He just hoped he had the strength to do it.

As he reveled in the silence around him, his eyes began to droop. It wasn't often he got to fall asleep to utter peace and quiet. It was quite nice.

But just as his eyes clamped shut in protest at being open any longer, a loud pop resonated in Grimmauld Place and he looked up to see Hermione in tears. She looked devastated.

He quickly jumped off the couch and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Hermione, what is it? What's wrong?" She opened her mouth to answer him, but instead of forming words, she gulped in a large breath and started sobbing even harder. Worry pitted itself firmly in his stomach and Harry began to feel helpless. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong, Hermione," he said quietly.

When she attempted to speak, the same thing happened again and Harry let out a defeated sigh. Instead of trying to coax anything sensible out of her, he simply pulled her into his arms and held her close, trying his best to comfort her.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that but despite the fact that she was crying, having her in his arms felt right. He whispered nonsense words of comfort in her ear and once she calmed down, he guided her to the couch and sat down with her. When she looked up at him, her eyes were puffy and red and she looked positively miserable.

The sight of her broken face caused his stomach to tighten. This wasn't right. She shouldn't be going through whatever internal struggles raged inside of her alone.

And when he looked into her eyes, he didn't need to be told what the cause of her emotional state was. As his jaw clenched, his fists did as well. Anger seethed in him and he could only hope that he calmed down by the time he found his idiot of a best mate.

"Ron did this, didn't he? You two had a fight."

"Harry, please—"

"You come over here in tears and you expect me to just roll over and let this slide? What happened?" She pursed her lips together and looked away from him. He knew right then she wasn't going to tell him anything. "I'll find out one way or another what's gotten you so upset. And since you clearly aren't going to tell me anything, I guess I'll just have to go to the source, won't I?"

Before Hermione could say a word, a loud crack filled the room and Harry looked over in surprise at Ginny. She looked grim and when she saw Hermione, sympathy filled her eyes.

"Harry, it's against my better judgment to tell you what I'm about to, but somebody ought to kick my brother's ass for being so bloody stupid." She paused and looked at Hermione again. "I'm sorry about the fight. What he said was wrong and he had no right to."

"Thank you," she said without really looking up. In fact, Harry would venture to say that she looked guilty. But why would she feel guilty about any of this?

Before he could ponder this any further however, once again, Ginny turned back to Harry and bit her lip. "Ron's at Hog's Head." Immediately at her words, Harry began to gather his clothes, not caring that he was dressing in front of Hermione and Ginny. As he was pulling his shirt over his head, Ginny placed a hand on his arm. "You should know he's not exactly in a good place right now. He might say some things to you . . . things he doesn't mean," she finished quietly.

He looked over at Hermione and then glanced back down at Ginny. "Gin, I faced Voldemort's Death Eaters from the time I was eleven and then Voldemort himself since I was fourteen. I think I can handle your brother."

But his words didn't seem to reassure her. She looked at him anxiously and twisted her wand in her hand. "He's really angry right now, Harry."

"I appreciate your concern, Ginny, but I'll be okay." Harry took a deep breath and grabbed his own wand. "Well, I guess I best be off. I'll be back," he said to Hermione.

And with that, he disapparated from Grimmauld Place to just outside of Hog's Head, preparing himself to confront his best friend.

* * *

Harry crinkled his nose in distaste at his surroundings. He'd always had a rather small dislike for this dingy nose-dive bar and he always thought Ron had too. The door squeaked in protest at being opened and when Harry stepped inside, he suddenly wished he had some of his aunt's hand sanitizer. It seemed grungier than he remembered.

Jet green eyes roamed the bar and finally reached their intended destination. Ron Weasley was sitting at the bar with a glass of some type of alcohol—Harry guessed it was fire whiskey. That seemed to be a favorite of his friend's.

Ron looked up from the bar and gave Harry a sardonic smirk. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the famous Harry Potter," he slurred lazily. Harry cringed at tone in Ron's voice. Ginny wasn't kidding when she said Ron was angry. "I see you've finally decided to come out of hiding," he said as he took another drink.

"Ron—"

"Let me guess. My nosy sister told you where I'd be?"

Harry shrugged and kept his face blank. "Doesn't matter who told me. I'm here because of Hermione," he said evenly.

The drunk redhead laughed and ordered another round of alcohol. "Of course you're here because of Hermione. Why else would you be here? Surely not for any other reason."

"She came to me in tears, Ron. You—"

"So you automatically assume it's something I did? Nice, mate. Thanks."

His jaw clenched and he took a menacing step forward. "Oh come off it! Don't try and pull out the innocent card, here. I happen to know it was because of you, so don't bother trying to deny it! Besides, why else would you be here completely trashed?"

"I'm only slightly trashed. Not completely," Ron said after he took a gulp of his fire whiskey.

"Ron, what happened?"

"And why should I tell you? We haven't exactly been the best of pals lately, have we Harry?"

Harry winced at the question and pushed away the nagging guilt. "No we haven't, but that doesn't mean we still can't talk about this! Tell me what's going on, please!"

"It's not any of your business. What happened earlier is between me and my _girlfriend_, so why don't you just sod off?"

Harry's jaw tightened even further, if it was possible, and his patience snapped. He was already angry with Ron for making Hermione as upset as she was and now he was being a git. He felt horrible for what he was about to do, but as it was, Ron was being stubborn and not listening to reason. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at his best friend.

Ron snorted into his glass and a lazy smirk appeared on his lips. "So what now? Are you going to hex me, Harry?"

His hand didn't waver and he shook his head at his best friend. "Do not try my patience. You know how my temper can be if you push the wrong buttons," he pointed out.

When he didn't lower his wand, he supposed he made it rather clear that he wasn't going anywhere until he got what he wanted because the next thing he knew, he heard a sigh escape Ron's lips. "Fine. Since it's obvious you won't get that blasted wand out of my face until I tell you, why don't you have a seat and make yourself comfortable at least?"

After Harry moved to sit down, Ron rolled his eyes. "And you can lower that bloody thing, please. I'm going to tell you everything, so there's no need for that."

Sheepishly, Harry did as he was asked and tucked his wand away. "Sorry," he muttered.

Ron shut his eyes and took another drink. When he finished the last of his fire whiskey, he opened his eyes again and looked at anywhere but Harry. "Well, it's quite simple, really. Hermione and I started to have _the_ talk—the talk that concerns our future together. It started out okay, I mean we seemed to be on the same page and everything."

"So what happened?"

"I mentioned marriage and she completely froze. When I asked her if she could tell me why she wasn't ready, she tried lying to me and telling me that she was. I got angry and I called her out on the fact that she wasn't ready. Then your name came up," he said slowly.

Harry's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Why would my name come up in that discussion? I don't have—"

"But you do, Harry. You do too. When we first started getting serious, we came to an agreement that we would always talk to you about things first because we didn't want to make anything awkward. I mean you always came to me with anything concerning Ginny and Hermione and I both thought we should extend you the same courtesy. And I know that hasn't exactly been working out very well and I am sorry about that."

He tried to shrug it off as though it didn't matter, because really, what would have said to either of them about anything regarding their relationship? He very well couldn't tell them the truth, especially not Ron. In fact, come to think of it, he was actually glad that Hermione and Ron never came to him about anything. It saved him another lie. "It's no big deal," he said quietly.

Ron glanced over at Harry and raised an eyebrow. Harry knew right then that Ron didn't believe him, but he also knew that Ron wouldn't push it. And as predicted, his best friend nodded and continued on with his explanation.

"Anyway, after your name came up, things went downhill from there. I was getting angrier and angrier with her and finally I snapped and asked her if she felt something more than friendship for you. Then she got mad and told me I was being paranoid and said that her feelings for you are strictly platonic."

Harry felt his stomach turn at this piece of information. He tried his best to not flinch at the words, either, but it was hard. It wasn't exactly easy hearing that the woman he was attracted to didn't feel the same way, even after a couple of shared kisses that clearly meant nothing.

"What then?"

"I called her a liar."

"You what?" Harry asked as he snapped his head in Ron's direction.

"I called her a liar," he repeated. "I told her I didn't believe her."

"Why? Why would you do that? You know Hermione's never lied to you!"

"There's a first time for everything then, I guess, isn't there mate? Do you think I'm stupid? Did you really think that I haven't noticed that something weird has been going on between you two? You're avoiding each other like the plague."

"That's not true," he argued, even though it was, in fact, true.

"We've been friends for eight years now. Don't treat me like I've never met either one of you and can't tell that something's not right! We spent practically every day of our lives growing up together and I know when something's wrong and something is wrong!"

"Nothing is wrong," he said through clenched teeth. "I've just been busy—"

"Yeah, you've been holing yourself up in your office and not coming home for days at a time. Think I didn't notice that either? Well I did. Another fire whiskey, please," Ron said to the bartender.

Harry swore under his breath and glared at Ron. "I've just had a heavy workload lately. That's all! I'm not avoiding anything or anyone!"

"Whatever, Harry."

"Oh, so now you're going to call me a liar, too?"

Ron shrugged and swallowed a rather large amount of his drink. "If the shoe fits . . ."

"What's your problem?" Harry snapped angrily. "Why are you so quick to jump to the wrong conclusion?"

"Wrong conclusion? So you don't have a thing for my girlfriend then, right?" he asked point blank.

Harry blinked in shock. He wasn't expecting Ron to be so blunt with him and the question took him by surprise.

"What?"

"My girlfriend. You know, small girl, bushy hair, takes pleasure in being the brightest witch of the age."

"I know who your girlfriend is, thanks. I just don't know why you would even ask me a question like that!"

Ron laughed and shook his head at Harry. "I should think the answer to that would be obvious. Ever since Hermione and I started to really date each other, you've been removing yourself from the picture."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Stop," he said angrily. "Just stop treating me like I'm some kind of an idiot! It's insulting."

"Well what do you want me to say then? Do you want me to lie to you and tell you that I hope things fail between you and Hermione so I can have a shot at her, is that what you want?"

He blinked in shock at himself. Since when did he become such a good liar? He never used to be able to lie to his best friend like this.

"Well, I think that would be the most honest thing you've said to me in months."

Harry sucked in a breath and knew then that it was time to remove himself from the situation before things got any worse. Besides, he couldn't take looking into his best friend's eyes and lying to him anymore. It made him sick to his stomach. "I've had enough. I'm out of here."

"You know what your problem is with everything? You just can't stand the fact that I've finally beaten you at something. I love Hermione and it kills you that you've come in second place." Harry kept walking and tried to ignore him, but Ron wouldn't leave well enough alone. "She's the best thing that's ever happened to me and if you want her, prepare for the fight of your life because if you think I'm going to give her up without one, you've got another thing coming."

He froze in his tracks and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep him from throwing punches. Ron's accusations were hitting far too close to home with him and he didn't like it one bit.

He turned and glared at his best friend and disapparated as quickly as he could before he launched himself at Ron. He didn't really look around to see where he had wound up; he just started walking.

Lights sparkled all around him and everyone wandering about looked cheerful and as though they didn't have a care in the world. The whole scene felt entirely false to him. He wanted to get out of there.

One thing he knew was that he wasn't going back to that apartment tonight. Nor could he go back to Grimmauld Place. He wasn't ready to face Hermione yet. Not after he'd been called out on his feelings for her.

An idea occurred to him and a small, tentative smile tugged at his lips. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner, actually. Neville. He could go to Neville's.

Upon completing the very thought, he apparated over to his friend's place and hoped with everything in him that he was home as he knocked quietly at the door.

Lights flickered on and the forgetful, awkward friend he'd made in Hogwarts opened the door, looking positively shocked. "Harry. What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

"Not really. Can I crash here for the night, if it's not too much trouble?"

Neville's eyes softened and he nodded. He stood aside and ushered Harry inside. "I just made a pot of tea a little while ago if you'd like some. I think there are some biscuits around here somewhere."

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "It's okay, Neville. Really. All I need's an extra blanket and I'm set. The couch looks very inviting."

"Of course," Neville said quietly. He took off down the hallway and Harry heard a door squeak open. Moments later, his friend returned with a blanket that had Gryffindor's colors and symbol stitched in it.

"Nice blanket."

"Thanks. My Gran made it when I first got into Gryffindor. She was quite proud of me that day," he said with a smile. "Anyway, bathroom's just down the hall to the left. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge if you get hungry."

"Thank you. I really appreciate all this, Neville."

Neville scoffed and waved off his thanks. "It's no problem. You know you're always welcome here Harry, and you can stay as long as you like. Look, I'd love to stay awake and catch up with you, but I've got to get to bed. Early day tomorrow."

Harry nodded and headed towards the couch after he took his shoes off. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Night. Oh and . . . don't worry. I won't tell Ron or Hermione you're here," he said with a smirk.

Relief swept through him and he practically collapsed on the couch. He was very grateful for Neville's presence in his life. He was truly a great friend.

Exhaustion soon over took him as he lied on his back staring at the ceiling. All of the events that had taken place over the last year were flashing through his mind, overwhelming him. Everything that had occurred led to his fight with Ron tonight. Their ties were becoming weaker and weaker. He could feel it.

Unable to keep his eyes open a moment longer, he succumbed to the sleep he desperately needed and welcomed the darkness.

* * *

Two days later, Harry slipped out of Neville's apartment after scrawling a thank you note to him. He'd sent notice to the ministry that he was taking some personal days and the time off had really helped cleared his mind. It was nice just being by himself. The only thing he was worried about, really, was Teddy. He knew that Mrs. Weasley didn't mind taking care of him. On the contrary, she often fussed over how little he got to stay over there. And Harry always packed loads of extra things in the baby bag, so she wasn't short on supplies, either.

And while he knew he was in good hands, that didn't stop the constant worrying he did over him. Nor did it stop the fact that he missed him terribly.

As much as he wanted to apparate straight over to the Burrow and pick up Teddy, he really needed to go back to Grimmauld Place and change. He'd been in the same clothes for two days now and it was really quite disgusting, despite the fact that he'd been able to shower. And it wasn't exactly like he could share Neville's clothes. They were both built quite differently.

So he apparated straight into his room and began fishing for extra clothes he kept here. He found something satisfactory enough and changed and unfortunately, his stomach growled rather loudly once he was finished.

He knew if his stomach protested at being empty when he was at the Weasleys that Ron's mum would make him stay until he'd been fed properly. But he really wasn't in the mood to stay long.

So he went downstairs and rummaged through the kitchen before finally deciding to just have a bowl of cereal. He was getting ready to go into the living room to sit on the couch when he noticed her. The sight of her gave him such a fright that he dropped his bowl and all of its contents spilled on the floor around him. He placed a hand on his thumping chest and took a deep breath.

"Merlin, Hermione. What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?" He pulled out his wand and cleaned the mess on the floor up and when he looked back at her, she had her arms folded across her chest and her eyes were glinting with unconcealed anger. "What are you doing here?"

"What was it you said to me before you left . . .? Oh, that's right 'I'll be back.' Where were you?"

His eyes narrowed as a frown came over him. "I was around. Honestly, I don't see why you're getting so worked up over this—"

"You were gone! You were gone for two days, Harry! You left without a word to anyone!"

"Well sorry I didn't clear my schedule with you before I left. I'll be sure to never make that same mistake again," he said sarcastically.

"You can let the sarcasm go, Harry. Do you have any idea how worried I was? We were looking all over the place for you!"

"We?"

Surely Ron wouldn't have been included in that 'we.' Not after the fight they'd had. His temper started to rise again, just thinking about that fight. It wasn't even that bad, but the topic, well that was a bit disconcerting to Harry.

"Ginny and myself. Ron said you would come around in your own time and to just leave it be."

"Well then, you should have listened to him," he snapped irritably. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a child. I don't need to be looked after anymore. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Hermione."

"Is that so?" she asked as she pursed her lips together. "Well then, care to explain this?"

She shoved a few books into his hands and Harry's eyes shut accordingly. His jaw tightened and he tossed the lot of the books back onto the couch. "Those are none of your business! What gives you the right to go snooping through my house?"

"I wasn't snooping! They were laying right out in the open! I thought you said you were going to destroy all of those books after that day in the library, Harry. What are they still doing in this house? You know nothing good can come from them!"

"Like I said, it's none of your business! I'm not even reading them!"

"Don't lie to me. If you weren't reading them, then why were they out? I could understand if they were just sitting on the shelves collecting dust, but they were strewn about on your tables in the library! I went in there to look for a book to read while I was waiting for you and I found them! What's going on with you? Why have you taken such a fancy to reading about dark magic?"

"I haven't 'taken a fancy' to anything! Can't you ever just let things go?" he argued.

"Not stuff like this, no! Those are dangerous books—"

"Oh please! They're only dangerous if I intend to use the spells in them and seeing as I have no intention of doing that, I'm perfectly safe reading those books should I choose to do so. Besides, it's not like I'm looking at them for recreational purposes. I'm reading them to help me with my work. Remember, I catch dark wizards for a living?"

Her face flushed and she looked humbled. "Well, I . . . I mean, that's good. And, well—"

"Hermione. Dark magic is what killed my parents and my godfather. It's what killed our friends. Do you really think I'd ever _use_ those spells?"

Hermione looked rather embarrassed at his question and became skittish. "Oh. No, of course not. Don't be silly, I—" Harry watched her and folded his arms in amusement. He nearly couldn't contain the laughter that was threatening to escape and he was trying his best to keep a straight face. It wasn't often he got to see Hermione Granger get so flustered like this.

"Really Hermione, thanks so much. I'm glad to see you had such confidence in my ability to resist the dark arts," he said as he tried not to laugh at her. If it were possible, she became even redder at his remark.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean—" Finally, when she looked up, her eyes widened and she swatted him on the shoulder. His shoulders had been shaking with quiet laughter as she had fumbled over her words and when she had actually looked at him again, the jig was up. "You arrogant prat! That's not funny!"

His laughter was no longer quiet and he was soon laughing so hard that Hermione was continually punching him in the shoulder. Finally, not wanting to be used as her punching bag any longer, he tried to compose himself and he took several steps back from her, making a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. But it was kind of funny," he said with a smirk. "Really, the look on your face was priceless."

"You're a foul git sometimes, do you know that?" she said with a frown.

His eyes softened as he smiled at her. She really did look beautiful angry. He walked over to her and placed his hands on her waist, ignoring the spark that jolted through him. "But it's one of my qualities that you love, admit it."

"Why would I love the fact that you're a foul git? That's just stupid, that is," she said offhandedly. He took the smallest amount of pleasure in hearing that she basically squeaked out the last bit. Okay, so maybe it wasn't a small amount. He rather enjoyed watching how he effected her with simplest of touches like this.

But then he thought of his argument with Ron and his face fell. He shouldn't _be_ touching her like this at all. He cursed his stupidity and quickly moved away from her. The more distance that was between them, the better.

Clearly, she disagreed, though.

"Oh for goodness' sake! How long are we going to keep doing this?"

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. _Perfect, _he thought dryly. _Finish up one argument, only to start another. _He'd barely been back for ten minutes and the tension was already starting to return.

"Doing what?"

"Avoiding each other. Pushing each other away. If I had known this was going to happen, I never would have—"

"Never would have what? Never would have kissed me?"

Her cheeks flushed once more and she promptly avoided his gaze. "I didn't say that! I—I m-mean—"

"Just forget it. Look, I understand. You've got Ron and despite the fight we just had, he is still my best mate. The kiss . . . it shouldn't have happened," he lied. It hurt to do it, but he needed to say it. This whole mess they'd gotten themselves into was hurting her; he could see that plain as day. And that was the last thing he wanted. "We can just pretend it never happened."

Hermione stayed quiet and for a moment, Harry wasn't sure if she heard him. He tried to gage a reaction from her, but he couldn't tell what she was thinking and it was driving him mad.

"Oh," she said finally. "If that's what you want," she said evenly.

Harry forced himself to look her in the eyes. If he was going to be convincing, he at least had to make eye contact with her. "It is."

Something flashed in her eyes. What, he wasn't quite sure. It couldn't possibly be hurt. She'd told Ron that she had no romantic feelings for him after all. Unless . . . unless she'd lied to him.

"Okay then. I'll just, um . . . I'll just go."

She grabbed her belongings and was heading for the door when Harry cursed at himself once again, this time for being weak. He rushed to catch up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder before spinning her around. "Damn it, it's not what I want. Not at all."

"No?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head before lowering his lips to hers and Harry reckoned that if he happened to drop dead right then that he would die happy. The feel of her lips on his was incredible. If possible, it felt better than he remembered.

The kiss started out slow and lazy almost. It was rather agonizing actually, and he wanted more, so he pulled her closer to him, at which point, all of the belongings in her hands dropped to the floor with a loud thud. His hand moved to cup the back of her head and he threaded his fingers through her hair as she bunched up the material of his shirt. When his tongue moved against her lips, Harry was slightly surprised when she allowed him that access.

As their tongues explored each others' mouths, things began to intensify and if he didn't stop soon, Harry knew there'd be no turning back. Regretfully, he pulled away from the kiss to rest his forehead against her own. Their breathing was heavy and choppy and he was pleased to see how puffy her lips were.

He groaned as he ran his fingers through her hair once more. "If we don't stop now . . ."

"Who says I want you to?"

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that," he said with a smile.

She blushed furiously as she looked down at his pants and then quickly back up to him. "I think I have some idea."

If he hadn't been so desire-ridden, he would have laughed. He never would have guessed Hermione could be so coy.

Without saying another word, he lifted her leg around his waist and when she moved to wrap the other one around him, he cupped her by the thighs and carried her up the stairs as she reconnected their mouths.

He couldn't remember a time he felt happier and as the bedroom door shut behind them, Harry realized that maybe he didn't have to leave after all. Maybe he would fight for her. For them.

The last rational thought he had before they went any further was that if his best friend wanted a fight, he'd give him one. May the best man win.

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes the next morning, he was in a state of euphoria. He didn't think he could be happier if he tried.

He smiled as he looked over at the rumpled sheets and stretched. He supposed she was probably taking a shower. He knew he could definitely use one himself.

After he forced himself to get out of the bed, he made his way to his dresser and when he looked over at the edge of the piece of furniture, he stiffened at what he saw. It was a picture of him, Hermione, and Ron back in their first year. He looked at the wide smile on his best friend's face and felt overwhelmed with guilt.

Last night . . . while it had been wonderful, it had been wrong. There was no denying that. He just betrayed his best mate in one of the worst ways possible.

He heard the door open and looked up to see Hermione walking in and drying her hair with a towel. Her expression was grim and he could only imagine what she must be feeling right now.

She looked at him with regret in her eyes as she tossed the towel onto a chair and sighed. "We should talk." Dread filled him as he had a small idea of what was coming next. "About last night . . . Merlin, how am I supposed to say this?"

"It's okay," he said quietly.

"No," she argued as she shook her head. "It's not okay! If I had actually used my brain last night instead of letting my hormones control me, we wouldn't have to have this conversation."

Harry frowned and gave her a good, hard stare. "That's all it was for you? Hormones?"

The glare he was sending her was an intense one, but instead of backing down, she lifted her chin and returned his gaze. "Yes. I won't deny that I'm attracted to you—"

"Gee, thanks," he said bitterly.

"But it's nothing more than that."

Anger started to get the better of him. He thought last night had been a stepping-stone for them. Apparently, he was dead wrong about that. "I thought . . . last night actually meant something to me, Hermione! It was more than just hormones for me and I thought you knew me better than that! I thought it meant something to you, too!"

She shook her head with a sad kind of expression on her face. "Of course it meant something to me, Harry! You mean the world to me, you do. It's just that . . ." she trailed off and let out a frustrated sigh. "Look, I'm sorry about this. I really am. You have no idea . . . But you're wrong. It didn't mean anything. At least not in the way you wanted it to. Our hormones just got a little out of control, that's all. It was a mistake, do you understand?"

"A mistake?" he repeated. "Because of Ron?"

"Please don't make this any harder than it already is," she said quietly.

"I wasn't aware this was hard for you," he retorted sourly. "After all, it was just our raging hormones controlling us—"

"Harry, please—"

"What? You think this isn't hard enough for me? He's my best friend, too, and I might as well have just spit on our relationship. Thanks for clearing things up for me. It's good to know where I stand now," he spat out.

"What can I say to make this easier? I don't want to lose your friendship!"

Harry's face blanched and his earlier glare returned. He wasn't quite sure it ever left. "Friendship? Friends don't do what we did last night!" He paused and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. When he felt he was composed enough, he looked back up at her and didn't bother holding back any emotions from her. "Why are you doing this? I can't believe that last night meant nothing to you. You're not that kind of girl, Hermione!"

"Harry, I—"

But her thought was interrupted, as they heard Ron barreling up the stairs. Damn. He really should look into putting tighter apparition restrictions on this house.

Seconds later, Ron peeked his head in the door and a tentative, unsure grin came into place. "Good, you're both here. Mum wants us all over at the Burrow for lunch. She says Dad has some good news that he wants to tell everyone."

"That's wonderful," Hermione said with a smile that Harry could tell was forced. He just hoped Ron didn't notice how fake it was as well. "What time did you want to go over?"

Ron shrugged and leaned against the doorframe. "Any time is cool. But we should probably get over there sooner rather than later. Teddy misses his Uncle Harry," he said with an apologetic smile. "Hermione, could I talk to Harry alone for a second?"

She glanced warily between the pair for a moment before nodding. "Of course. I'll just be downstairs." And then, much to Harry's dismay, she placed a chaste kiss on Ron's cheek before exiting the room. Right now, he really wished he could perform a Bat Bogey hex half as well as Ginny. His just seemed to lack the right punch.

"What do you want?" he asked, trying to keep the iciness out of his voice. Apparently it didn't work, as Ron winced at the question.

"I deserved that. Look, I was a git the other day. I was sotted and didn't think about what I was saying. I just said it and it was too late to take it back." He paused and looked away from Harry. "I know things aren't good between us right now and that they haven't been for a while. But Mum really wants you there today. Can we call a truce—at least for an hour?"

Harry nodded and tried ignoring the guilt that was firmly pitted in his stomach. This wasn't right. Ron shouldn't be apologizing to him, not after what he'd just done last night.

"Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. Shouldn't be too difficult, right?"

Mere seconds later, Hermione peeked her head in the doorway again. "Ron, your mum's just owled us and she wants us to get over there as soon as we can to help with lunch preparations."

"Okay." He turned and looked back at Harry. "Are you coming with us?"

He swallowed as he looked at Hermione, who was promptly avoiding his gaze. He had his answer right there. "No. I'll be along later. I need to get a shower. Tell your mum I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Sure. See you there, then."

"Bye," Hermione said quietly.

Harry sighed as he watched his two best friends walk away. So it was done. Hermione had chosen Ron. She had made her feelings towards him abundantly clear and as he watched them walk away together, the pain he'd felt was much bigger than anything he'd ever experienced before.

If it was bad before, he knew it was going to be twice as worse now that he'd actually gotten his chance to be with her. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle watching those two together anymore. It was just too hard and he shouldn't have to feel uncomfortable in his own home. Plus, he hated that he wanted to attack Ron any time he touched Hermione, which wasn't right, since the young witch was rightfully his girlfriend after all. He couldn't do it anymore.

He kicked at the dresser and knew that he was going to have to talk to Ron and let him know he was leaving and that he was done. But he didn't know if he could say goodbye to the others. It was just too hard. But he owed Ron that much. After everything they'd been through together, he couldn't leave without a word.

He took a deep breath and steadied himself against his dresser. Looked like that leaving plan was back on.

* * *

Woot! Another update. I should have more time to concentrate on this now that one of my other fictions has just finished up. Yay, right?

I'm actually rather pleased with how this chapter turned out. As I was going back through to edit and such, I pretty much got to leave it as is and felt marginally happy. It's strange because I usually nitpick relentlessly and find something wrong, but this was all right. Actually, if I'm being truthful, it's one of my favorite chapters of the story so far. I dunno, but for some reason, I'm sort of attached to this update. Lol.

Anyway, not much to be said for this update. Please don't think too harshly of Hermione, though, because she has her reasons for doing what she did. And they will be explained in future chapters. Also, there was a bit more to the fight between Ron and Hermione than what Mr. Weasley told Harry. It was the basic gist of it, but there were facts omitted.

**The next chapter will be back in the present**.

And I need to request readers' patience for just a little while longer. Present Hermione will not cross paths with Harry until chapter eight, which is already written. I know, that sucks, but I promise there's a smashing good reason why! As I mentioned in the first chapter, this will not be the kind of story where Harry and Hermione get together straight away. They've got some obstacles to overcome and I want to try and progress this as realistically as possible time-wise.

Alrighty then. I think that about covers everything for this time around.

As always, I must give out my thank-you to all readers of the story and to everyone's who backed this. It really is awesome and it makes me excited!

**Kingswriter, _bernadette aquino_, eSJa, pyroseyes, F5Chaos, SorrisoD'amore **(2-times)**, jafr86, willyjoeshow, Mikeo6464, pawsrule, _Bexis_, Wesleyangirl13, carbon12.011, Eriku, TxA-GunFighter **(4-times)**, **and** Aaron Leach.**

Review replies will be coming shortly.

That's all for now, though! I hope you enjoy the update :D


	6. Chapter 6

"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 6

* * *

Harry stared out at the lake for a moment, trying to give himself a moment to collect himself. After discussing something that had been swept under the rug for the last five years, it was more painful than he'd imagined it would have been.

There was one thing he left out and that was the fact that he'd gone to Ron after the celebration at the Weasleys. Mr. Weasley had gotten a promotion in his department, and the festivity for his good fortune had been in full swing. Harry had wanted to tell Ron right away, but he didn't want to damper the mood.

So the next day, he'd gone to Ron and apologized for everything and told him that he had to leave. They'd gotten into another row about his decision and the fact that they had been fighting again had only confirmed his thoughts that he needed to get out of there. It had been so suffocating the last few months and when he'd gotten to New York, the amount of freedom he'd felt had been incredible.

That's why he resented his boss so much for forcing him to come back here. Back in New York, his life was simple. He had Teddy, Kate, Wood, and couple of other friends he'd become quite close with. Back there, he wasn't "The Boy Who Lived." He was simply Harry Potter and there wasn't a day that passed him by where he wasn't grateful for that, either.

But nearly from the moment he stepped foot back in England, his life became a complicated mess again. The whispers were following him again, his old fears of Voldemort were resurfacing, he learned that his two best friends split because of him . . . Now he was putting together that Ron never told anybody he was leaving.

Harry supposed Ron had simply been too angry with him to do him any favors. Besides, it wasn't his responsibility anyway. Harry should have been the one to do it, but he hadn't wanted a big fuss over it. At that point, things were just so strained that all he had been able to think about was getting away from everything.

He sighed and glanced over at Neville, who had a sympathetic expression on his face. "You think I'm horrible now, don't you?"

"No Harry. I don't think that at all." He paused and then gave Harry a long, hard stare before he sucked in a breath. "You were in love with her?" he asked quietly.

Harry snorted and picked at a blade of grass beside the blanket. "No, Neville. I just left everything I knew behind because it was a crush." His eyes flickered over towards his friend and he gave him a pointed look. "And she wasn't the only reason I left, you know. I'm not that idiotic. That would have been downright stupid of me to leave solely because of a girl."

"But it's Hermione. I think it would be accurate to say this is a bit different and I don't think it was stupid, Harry. And, I also don't think anyone would blame you."

Harry's head snapped in Neville's direction and he shot him a glare. "Well we're not going to find out how they'd react because I'm not telling anyone. That is out of the question."

"Why?"

"Why? Why do you think I left in the first place?! I betrayed my best friend, Neville! Hermione wasn't my girl to be with and that didn't matter to me! Ron would hate me even more than he does now if he ever found out."

"He doesn't hate you," Neville argued. "Trust me. He's just . . . he's just angry. He's angry at the way that you left. I don't think he understood it at all. None of us did."

Harry thought back to their fight and as he listened to Neville's words, he remembered the confusion etched on Ron's face when he'd revealed that he was leaving. He didn't think he could remember a time when Ron looked more hurt and upset than he had at that moment. Neville was quite right in his assumption that Ron hadn't understood, because now that Harry really thought about it, the redheaded wizard had, indeed, been at a loss.

Ron had demanded countless times to know why Harry was leaving, but he could never provide a proper answer without telling him the entire truth. And that clearly hadn't been an option.

"Why did you leave without saying goodbye?"

Harry groaned at that. He was beginning to wish he would ignore his sense of loyalty to Ron and just tell everybody that he had, in fact, not left without a moment's notice. But he didn't want people to be angry with Ron when really, he wasn't the one that deserved the anger. Harry was ninety-nine point nine percent certain that Ron's neglect to mention his departure was not done with malicious intent. He simply figured the boy had gone so long without mentioning it that when he realized he _should_ have told somebody, it was too late.

"Neville, this is really getting rather redundant. I left without saying goodbye because I didn't want my mind to get changed. I couldn't stand being in the spotlight anymore, especially with Teddy to think about. I couldn't even go grocery shopping with my own godson without being mobbed with camera flashes. So I guess another reason I left the way I did was because I didn't want the press to get wind of it. That would have defeated the whole purpose of my wanting a new life of privacy. And . . . and I couldn't take that I was lying to my best friend. That was just the final straw for me."

He glanced down at his watch and panicked when he realized how much time he'd spent hiding away at Hogwarts. A pang filled him as he also realized that he would have to leave without seeing Hagrid. That didn't sit well with him. A trip to Hogwarts didn't seem complete without visiting the old cabin. But, he needed to get back to his team.

He made a mental note to owl Hagrid as soon as time allowed it.

"I hate to cut this short, but I really have to go. I didn't realize how long I've been here and my team of Aurors is probably wondering where I am."

Neville nodded, though he looked disappointed. "I understand."

"Look, don't worry. I'll be in touch. I promise to just not take off without saying anything this time. But I've really got to go. We're supposed to go over our case tonight."

"I've been meaning to ask you . . . why are you here? Is it anything serious?"

Harry hesitated as he stood up from the blanket and dusted himself off. He wasn't much inclined to confess his notion that his boss was off his rocker. Plus there was the whole added fact that his gut feeling still hadn't gone away. This case was not following standard protocol at all and Harry didn't like it one bit. "I'm not sure yet. I guess only time will tell on this one. Can you tell McGonagall that I had to take off? We were supposed to continue our conversation from earlier."

"Sure, no problem. I'm sure I'll see her sometime later this evening."

"Thanks," he said as Neville stood up himself. "Thanks for listening and everything."

"Thanks for telling me."

* * *

Harry had been correct in his assumptions that his team was worried about him. But Claire and Jim had at least been calm at his return, unlike Oliver. He'd been met with an angry glare from his friend and Harry realized he'd been quite stupid for not leaving a note at least. But in his defense, he didn't know stepping outside the hotel was going to create pure chaos for him.

Nearly as soon as he stepped in the door, Oliver started grilling and lecturing, much to the remaining two's confusion. And Claire and Jim wouldn't make any sense out of Oliver's worry, as they hadn't grown up with him. They didn't quite understand the knack Harry had for getting into trouble.

"Damn it, Harry, what were you thinking?" he asked crossly. "Do you have any idea how irresponsible that was? Did you not think your teammates would worry about where you went?"

Harry sighed when Jim spoke up. "I think you're going a bit over the top, Wood. It's not like Harry's some underage wizard who can't take care of himself."

He was very grateful for Jim's intervention and was unsurprised to see Claire staying out of things. If anything, she looked as though she wanted to slip out of the room undetected.

Oliver glared at Jim and folded his arms with a slight huff. "You don't seem to get it. Things aren't the same for Harry here in England as they are back in New York. He has enemies here."

"So? He has enemies back in New York, too! He's an Auror, Wood. We all have enemies. Harry just happens to have a little bit more than the three of us."

"Try a little more than the three of us put together! Hell, try Harry has more enemies than our whole blasted department!"

Harry scowled at that. "I think that's a bit of an exaggeration, Oliver. I won't deny I have more enemies than the three of you put together, but to say I've managed to gain more than the entire department is ridiculous. I'm not _that_ hated. Besides, most of my enemies are still locked up in Azkaban, thanks very much."

Oliver looked incredulous. He advanced on Harry with his eyebrows raised as though he were stupid. "Are you mad? Did you forget that the whole reason we're here is because the culprit could be one of the Death Eaters that escaped? There was a mass breakout, you idiot!"

He paled. Blimey, he had forgotten about that. Merlin, how could he have been so stupid and reckless?

"Jim, Claire—could you excuse Harry and me for a second? I need to speak with him alone."

Claire and Jim both looked hesitant, but Jim looked as though he were ready to fight Oliver on it. The brunette gently tugged on the blonde's sweater and coaxed him out of the room when Harry had nodded to her that it was okay.

He fought back a chuckle when he heard Jim arguing with Claire on the way out. Harry thought he vaguely heard something along the lines of, "He's being completely unreasonable. Harry's our leader for a reason . . ." And then they could hear no more because Claire had told him to be quiet as she shut the door behind them.

That bit had actually quite amused him, considering Jim had been the most resistant to fall in line when he'd first been placed in charge.

"Amazing how times change," Oliver said with a bemused expression. Clearly he'd heard Jim as well. At Harry's snicker, Oliver's facial features turned somewhat stony. "It's also amazing how some things _never_ change. Like your impulsive nature!"

"I don't need a lecture, Wood," he snapped. "I'm well aware that I acted irresponsibly, but I needed to leave. I was going over the workload and kept coming up empty-handed. It was driving me mad and so I left to take a walk. I thought I'd be back, but somehow I'd wound up at the Leaky Cauldron."

Oliver groaned. "So _that's_ how word got out that you were back."

"How on earth did _you_ hear about it?"

His friend frowned and threw a small packet down on the table and Harry felt like he could go be sick any moment. It was the _Daily Prophet_. A very small version of it, but it was very clear it was that awful newspaper with his picture from five years ago on the front page. "They've declared this an emergency edition and you've made the front page," he added unnecessarily. "Apparently Harry Potter is still a hot topic amongst witches and wizards alike."

"This is unbelievable!" Harry exclaimed angrily. "We've only been back since the early morning! How in the world did they get this published so quickly? Don't they have to go through some long editing process or . . . _something_?"

Surprisingly, Oliver's eyes filled with sympathy, as he must have realized how frustrated Harry was feeling. "I don't know, mate. But that's not the worst of it."

"Just how does this get worse?"

"Well, I leafed through this and every single page deals with you. It brings up your defeat of You-Know-Who, the time you spent here in London afterwards, and then it goes on to cover your abrupt disappearance. It almost sounds like they've had this written for ages and have just been biding their time waiting for you to show up. Should I go on?"

Harry shook his head solemnly as he sighed and sank into one of the chairs in the room. _Could this day get any worse? Next thing I know, I'll be getting howlers from Ginny or something._

This was exactly why he'd left in the first place. Those people over at the _Prophet_ had no scruples and didn't know when to leave someone in peace. He'd barely been back for five minutes and they were already invading his life again.

When he looked up at Oliver, he narrowed his eyes in confusion as he noted the guilt that had evidently replaced the sympathy. "What?" he asked uncertainly.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"For what? It's not like you sold me out to the _Prophet._ You and I both knew this was going to happen. It just turned out to happen sooner rather than later."

Oliver shook his head and avoided his gaze. "But I wasn't taking it quite as seriously as you were. I can't believe I forgot how intruding those people are. Harry . . . I'm sorry for even suggesting bringing Teddy along. I was putting my nose where it didn't belong and—"

"Stop it, Wood. You care about Teddy more than anyone I know. You and Kate both look after him like he was your own son and you have no idea how much that means to me. You were only suggesting what you thought was the right thing to do." He smiled to try and convince Oliver that he meant every word he was saying, because he did. "You were looking out for your favorite six year-old."

"Thanks," Oliver said quietly.

Harry nodded and then leaned forward in his seat. "Well, now that the discussion of my recklessness is over, what are we going to do about this? The press is going to be trailing us everywhere we go."

Oliver sighed and then sat down in another chair across from Harry. "Too right you are. Not to make you feel any worse or anything, but your fame really sucks, you know."

"Tell me about it," he mumbled.

"Well, I suppose there's always Polyjuice Potion," Wood said distractedly.

Harry grimaced as his stomach churned and shook his head. "No thanks. Just thinking about it makes me want to spew."

"Invisibility Cloak?"

Of all the things he could have forgotten, it _had _to be his Invisibility Cloak. Going back to get it was out of the question. He'd want to see Teddy and that would just be too hard. It'd been difficult enough leaving him earlier this morning and he was certain that if he just 'popped over' to New York again that he'd be tempted not to come back to England. "Left it back in New York. Would have been a good thing to have with me, though. You should have reminded me," he mumbled.

Oliver shot him an unamused glare. "I'm not your bloody keeper, Potter. Make your own lists."

Harry smirked and then proceeded to fall back against his chair's cushion. "Well someone's a bit touchy. You'd think it was _your_ face that was plastered on the front page of the _Prophet_."

"Well it might as well have been!" he said as he let out an exasperated sigh.

The laughter that came out of Harry seemed to be unappreciated by the room's only other occupant. He sent Oliver a bemused grin. "Enlighten me. How do you figure that one?"

"Oh good grief, Harry, do use your head! It might as well have been the entire team's faces printed on that page! Any hope of getting work done without being mobbed now is practically shot to hell!" he finished grumpily.

At that, Harry's surprisingly good mood faded. "Oh. Well, I suppose you do have a point. Sorry."

"It's not your fault people are fascinated with you," he said dryly. "Though might I ask why you walked into the Leaky Cauldron? That was bloody stupid, that was."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat and knew that he wouldn't get away with his excuse he gave to McGonagall. Plus, it didn't help matters that he'd worked with Wood for the last five years. His lie would be sniffed out before it even came out of his mouth.

"Uh, would you believe me if I said I fancied a drink?" Oliver shook his head and waited for an answer. "Yeah, I thought not. Look, it doesn't really matter why it happened. The point is that it _did_ happen, so now I have to figure out a solution to the mess I've created for us."

Oliver stood up from his chair and walked over to the dresser to lean against the wall. "Well, there really is no easy solution to this I'm afraid. I can't say I blame you for not wanting to do the Polyjuice Potion option, though. That is not a nice experience."

"No," Harry agreed. "So since there's no magical solution, I guess we'll just have to do it the old-fashion muggle way."

"What's that?" Oliver asked curiously.

"We go shopping."

His friend looked the very definition of perplexed and he stared at Harry as though he were crazy. "Are you mental? Why do you need to go shopping?"

"So I can use the oldest trick in the book. A simple pair of sunglasses and a cap will work wonders."

Understanding dawned on Oliver and he grinned. "Very clever, Potter. It's so simple they'll never suspect a thing. Brilliant."

"Of course it is," he said with a cheeky grin of his own. "Muggles aren't completely stupid, you know."

"Well, now that we've figured out the solution, how are we going to execute it? You can't very well go shopping and risk exposure to yourself. I know the risks aren't as great in the muggle parts of London, but the people who work at the _Prophet_ aren't stupid, Harry. They'll figure out where you are soon enough."

"Good point," Harry said glumly.

But then he and Oliver grinned at the same time and looked towards the door. Harry had a small idea that they were thinking the same thing, so Harry got out of his seat and started to head outside with Oliver.

In unison, they both shouted behind the closed door, "Claire!"

* * *

About an hour later, Claire returned with several bags and a huge smile on her face. The three males in the room looked at each other with somewhat scared expressions on their faces.

"Uh, Claire?" Harry said uncertainly. "I just needed one or two caps and a decent pair of sunglasses. What's with all the bags?"

"Oh relax," she said offhandedly. "Most of this stuff is for me. I'm a girl that you asked to go shopping—in London. You didn't think I'd pass up the opportunity to buy stuff for myself, did you?"

Jim snorted and muttered under his breath, "Chicks."

Oliver held back a smirk, as well as Harry, but Claire was certainly unimpressed with the comment. "I heard that," she said with a faint frown. "Here are your bags, Harry."

"Thanks," he said with a smile as he took them from her.

He started rummaging through the bags and admired all of the caps she'd purchased appreciatively. She'd done a good job and apparently knew his tastes well. But when he came across another bag, his eyes widened and Oliver, who saw his expression, grabbed the bag and after he looked in it, he started howling. Once Oliver had his look, he passed the bag over to Jim who started snickering as well.

"What?" Claire asked.

"No," Harry said pointedly. "No, I won't do it, Claire. Forget it."

"Uh-oh. You found the bag."

"I found the bag," he said dryly. "And that is out of the question."

"But Harry, come on. It would help the cause!" she argued. "They definitely wouldn't recognize you," she said with a smirk.

"I like my hair the way it is! I'm not dying it," he said heatedly.

Oliver smirked as he grabbed the horrid box out of the bag. "Technically, you wouldn't be. This here says that it's speckled highlights," he said with a snigger.

Harry glared at Oliver and grabbed the box out of his hands. "Shut up, you wanker. You're not helping."

"Personally, I think you'd look positively _dashing_ with blonde specks in your hair, buddy," Jim said as he came over to ruffle said hair.

Harry swatted his hand away and moved backwards. "I will hex you both if you don't _shut up_," he said through his teeth. "And don't think I won't, either!"

Instead of striking fear into the pair of them, they simply doubled over with laughter and were holding onto each other for support. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and when he looked over at Claire, he could see that she was trying not to laugh as well.

Understanding dawned on him as he saw the mischievous glint in her eyes. "You did this on purpose didn't you?" he said indignantly.

Then she _did_ start laughing and Harry found himself growing thoroughly annoyed with all three of his team members. When Claire finally gained composure of herself she walked over to Harry and placed an arm around him while he was still scowling. "Really, Harry. You should have known better. This was a gag gift," she said as she took the box out of his hands. "I knew you'd never go for anything quite as drastic as this," she said with another smirk.

Relief soared through him. "So I don't have to dye my hair, then?" he said in a rather pathetic voice.

Then a genuine smile crossed her face as she shook her head. "No, Harry. You don't have to dye your hair."

"Thank goodness," he replied. "That was probably the worst idea I've ever heard."

Oliver, who had just finished up his laughter session with Jim, gave Harry a playful grin. "Oh I don't know, mate. I think it has possibilities. I think I'm in agreement with Jim—you'd look _dashing_."

Harry scowled and grabbed the box from Claire's hands, only to chuck it at Oliver who was heading out towards the bathroom.

It hit him square in the back of the head and Harry was satisfied when he heard Oliver yell, "Ow!"

* * *

His team members were sitting in his hotel room with him eating dinner and going over the caseload. The background checks had come through and they each were going over a different victim and then taking turns. So far, none of them could see anything connecting them and it was driving them all bonkers.

Oliver spoke up after he finished taking a bite from his takeout carton. "Maybe there is no connection," he suggested. "Could be that it's just random attacks."

Harry shook his head. "That doesn't make sense. That's not how Death Eaters work. There's usually some type of grand plan."

"Maybe it's not a Death Eater?" Jim proposed. "Perhaps it's just some random wizard."

"But Avada Kedavra is typical of Death Eaters. That's like their favorite way to kill people," Oliver argued.

Harry sighed and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "This is getting us nowhere. We have no clues, nothing. The only thing we know is what killed those muggles and the fact that it could be a Death Eater, which, by the way, I still think Jerry's wrong on this. I highly doubt Lucius Malfoy is involved in this and we shouldn't be wasting our time trailing him." He paused and stopped himself from further voicing his doubts about their boss. It wouldn't be useful to fill the team in on his worries, so he just kept the rest to himself. "So all of this, doesn't really narrow our search. This is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. Could be anyone."

"Way to keep up team morale, Harry," Oliver muttered.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I'm just frustrated."

Suddenly, there was knock at the door and the four of them jumped in surprise. They all glanced warily at each other and it was Oliver who grabbed his wand and made his way to the door.

Moments later, Harry could hear arguing and the three remaining team members threw each other questioning looks.

The next thing they knew, Oliver was shouting, "Harry Potter is NOT staying here! Do you get that?! You've got the wrong room! Sod off!"

Jim and Claire nodded at him to leave. He didn't want to, but knew that it was necessary, as that person Oliver was dealing with would likely barge in at any given moment to see for themselves. He quietly grabbed his bag and mouthed a quick goodbye, then he immediately apparated straight to Grimmauld Place.

This was the last place he wanted to go, but he couldn't think of anywhere else where he would have privacy. Very few people outside of the Order knew about this place and he hoped desperately that it would stay that way. The last thing he needed was for the press to figure out that his godfather left him this.

Harry sighed and took very small steps forward after he'd found his key. He really didn't want to go in there. That place was where he and Hermione had made love for the first (and last) time and then she'd basically told him to take a hike. Okay, so that was an exaggeration. He was just still bitter towards the memories that sometimes haunted his dreams. What made him angrier still was that he couldn't actually refer to it as lovemaking, either, since she very clearly _hadn't_ loved him.

He grumbled under his breath and tried to forget about it. He'd done an okay job of it for the last five years and just because he was at the place that it happened didn't mean he had to think about it the entire time.

Feeling slightly better and a bit more confident, he walked a little faster towards the door and nearly had a heart attack when he a deep voice came out of nowhere.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to come here."

Harry squinted in the direction the voice had come from and out of the shadows stepped a very familiar figure. His breath caught in his throat and a mixture of emotions overtook him as he looked into a pair of eyes that he'd not seen in five years.

"Ron."

* * *

So here you are. A bit of a lighter chapter and more on the fun side of things. And some interaction between Harry and his team, which, you will be seeing some more of in the future.

Sorry for the cliffhanger. But I just couldn't resist. The next chapter is very long and predictably features Harry and Ron time. Plus a bit of a bombshell is dropped in the next chapter too, so yeah. Something for you to look forward to!

Now on to my thank-you's!

**jafr86, Mikeo6464, _quinzy_, Aaron Leach, pawsrul, jaypatel111, KakashiSasukeInuyasha52891, Kngswriter, toooldforthis **(5-times)**, _Gabbie_, pyroseyes, SorrisoD'amore, rachelalexandra, F5Chaos, Folaan, jabarber69, jock wizard **(2-times)**, eSJa, **and** Eriku.**

I just mean wow! This support is truly incredible. "If You Only Knew" has now been added to a total of _eight_ C2s. I seriously never anticipated anything like this and you all just really do rock. You've inspired me to keep going with this fiction idea and I'm now more determined than ever to see this through to the end.

I really don't have much else to say, so I think I'll close out here!

Once again, you all rock!

**EDIT:** I've gone back in and made a small addition to this chapter that will hopefully help with consistency issues for chapter 8. It's not a major add-in, but I thought it'd be useful.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Warning-long chapter ahead!

* * *

"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 7

* * *

The two wizards stared at each other without saying anything.

He wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting as he looked at his old childhood friend, but it wasn't this. Ron was no longer the lanky wizard he remembered. His physique had quite a muscular build to it now and the red hair that had been getting rather long before he'd left was now cut short. And as Harry studied him further, he realized that Ron was taller than he remembered. Did this particular Weasley ever _stop_ growing?

So many things were running through Harry's head at the moment that he didn't think he'd be able to manage a sensible sentence if he tried.

Luckily Ron was the first to speak. "Mum still orders the _Daily Prophet_ on the regular. Never misses an issue. I was at the Burrow when this afternoon's 'emergency edition' arrived."

"How is your mum?" Harry asked quietly.

Indifference clouded Ron's face and for some reason, Harry shuddered at the sight. The young Weasley looked slightly threatening with that look in his eyes. "If you cared, perhaps you'd have stayed in touch."

"Ron—"

"Five bloody years. Five. Why? Do you have any idea how much pain you caused? Do you know how long we looked for you?" he said as he raised his voice towards the end.

Harry looked away from him and started towards the house. This was the last thing he wanted to be confronted with at the moment. He came here for peace and quiet, not to be bombarded with questions and be lectured.

As he reached the door, he felt Ron's hand on his shoulder and the next thing he knew he was being whipped around. "We're not finished. We're having this discussion tonight."

After he looked into the eyes of the angry redhead in front of him, Harry sighed and knew that Ron was determined. Besides, he supposed they might as well get this over with. He had hoped Ron would have been too pissed off at him to even bother, but, as luck would have it, that was apparently not in the cards.

"Fine. But if we're going to talk, you might as well come inside." Ron took a reluctant step back and then, after what Harry guessed was an insane amount of internal arguing, he finally nodded and agreed to follow him. As he got his key ready, a thought occurred to him and he turned back to Ron. "Out of curiosity, how'd you know I'd be here?"

"I was your best mate for eight years. I think I know you well enough to know that you would eventually wind up here after being exposed to the_Prophet_."

"So you just camped outside of my house until I showed up? That doesn't sound like you," he noted.

"Well for your information, I'm not the same person I was five years ago, so there's quite a lot you don't know about me anymore."

Harry tried his best to ignore the jab and the pain and guilt that immediately followed it. Ron was right. There was a lot he didn't know anymore.

"But you're right," he said with a bit of a guilty grin on his face. "I enlisted George's help and set up an alarm system on the house. It was a bit tricky, but we managed to successfully charm this place to let us know when you got here. We've had this set up for a while, now. Years, actually."

Harry couldn't help but be impressed at that. "You did that? Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you pay even less attention in Professor Flitwick's class than I did?"

"Yeah, but you're forgetting something very important that I just said." Harry raised an eyebrow and smirked, waiting for him to continue. "I said I enlisted George's help. You think he'd know a thing or two about charms to have a successful joke shop."

"Touché. Very good point," he said as he finally opened the door. "Now I have no idea what the state of this house is going to be like. I mean Kreacher—"

But Harry never finished his sentenced due to his jaw dropping. The place was spotless and, as far as he could tell, it looked exactly the same as he left it. "What on earth?"

"What?" Ron asked, annoyed.

"The house. It's . . . _clean_," he spat out.

"Well imagine that. You have a house elf that actually cleans. Go figure," Ron said sarcastically.

"Shut up. It's just that I figured Kreacher would kind of let this place go to hell. It's not like he hasn't done it before," he mumbled under his breath, inadvertently thinking of Sirius.

"Well Kreacher likes you. Simple as that," Ron finished with a shrug.

When Harry glanced over at Ron, he had a feeling he was being less than truthful. His suspicion was only heightened when Ron avoided his gaze and refused to look at him. But Harry wasn't going to question it because really, who didn't have their secrets? Look at the ones he harbored, for example . . .

"Right," he said as he tossed his duffle bag onto the couch. "Well, come in. I don't know how long we'll have before my team sends an owl for me."

"Team?"

"Still an Auror, Ron. I'm here on assignment."

"Of course you are," he said bitterly. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be here at all, would you?"

Harry sighed and sat down while he clasped his hands together. "I know this won't mean anything to you, but I am sorry."

"You're right. It doesn't mean anything to me. Sounds like a load of bullocks if you ask me."

His patience was thinning. He knew he didn't really have a right to get impatient with Ron, seeing as it wasn't him who left or cheated. But he was beginning to feel a little tired and, unfortunately, he felt a headache coming on.

"If you've come here just to tell me how much of a tosser I am, then you can show yourself out. I have an early day tomorrow and I need to get some kind of sleep."

Ron mirrored Harry's earlier sigh and sat down in an armchair. "That's not why I'm here. I really didn't come here to argue with you," he said quietly. Harry snorted in disbelief and Ron gave him a pointed look. "I promise, I didn't. You just know how my temper can be sometimes. I don't always have the best of luck controlling it."

Harry couldn't help but grin and then nod in agreement. "Something you and I have always had in common, I'm afraid."

"Yeah and both of our tempers put together drove Hermione mad most days," he said with a grin of his own.

At that name, Harry almost immediately felt uncomfortable, but thankfully, he didn't show it. He was in full control of masking his emotions nowadays. Well, for the most part, anyway. His own temper sometimes still managed to get out of control, but he at least had mastered the ability to keep his face blank when it came to things like this.

So, like he had to do so many times before, he put on a smile for Ron and pushed the pang in his chest aside.

But something odd happened then. Ron's own smile faded and he became quite serious. It unnerved Harry, actually, and it made him even more uncomfortable than he was to begin with. "Ron? Is everything okay?"

"No. No not really. There's a reason I came here. I need to tell you something that isn't exactly going to be easy to say, let alone for you to hear. But . . . I need to do this before you hear it from anyone else."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

"Well, I assume Oliver's told you that I stopped by his flat about a year ago, right?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, feigning dumb.

Ron chuckled a bit and amusement twinkled in his eyes. "Harry, surely you didn't think Wood was a _good_ liar, right? Mum knew he was lying the first time she talked to him. All of his stammering was a bit of a clue. Anyway, when I got there and asked if you were in New York, he told me the same thing he told my mum. But I saw right through it. His conviction was a bit stronger than it first was, but I knew. I could tell.

"Honestly, I wanted to hex the truth out of him because I was so close—I just didn't know _where_ in New York you were. I'd been half-tempted to find a stash of veritiserum and slip him some, but I didn't exactly have the resources for that. And when it was clear he wasn't going to tell me anything, I left because you obviously didn't want anyone to know you were there. Oh and by the way, good job on your protection charms against tracking. Very impressive, that was. Drove the Ministry barking mad," he added with full, appreciative smile.

Harry laughed and couldn't help it, either. The idea that he had driven the Ministry of Magic mental gave him the slightest feeling of satisfaction. And this felt good. Never in a million years would he have predicted that Ron wouldn't start throwing punches upon their first meeting. He was glad to have been proven wrong. Things were undoubtedly tense, that much was true. There was unrestrained resentment lingering in the atmosphere, but if Ron could look past all of it, so could he.

He cleared his throat and glanced back over at Ron. "So why did you go over to New York in the first place?"

Ron cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "This is the hard part, I'm afraid. Harry, it's about Hermione."

His attention became one hundred percent and his mind was fully focused. This did not sound good and it sent his heart racing. The look on Ron's face gave him an uneasy feeling and he didn't like it one bit. "What about her?"

"Well, as I said before, I didn't want you to hear from anyone else, and so I—"

"The point, please," Harry snapped impatiently. He was growing antsy and wanted to know what was going on with their friend.

"Right. Well, there isn't really an easy way to say this, so I guess I'll just say it. We . . . we don't know where Hermione is," he said quietly.

"WHAT?" he exclaimed as he got out of his chair.

Ron winced and got up to stand right in front of Harry, who was fuming. He was barely aware that Ron placed his hands on his shoulders and tried shaking him a little bit. His mind was too busy racing. Hermione was _gone_? How was this even possible? And most importantly, _why_? This made no sense. "Okay, one—you need to calm down."

"You expect me to CALM DOWN? You just spring something like that on me and expect me to be all sunshine and daisies about it? Not bloody likely!"

"You don't have the right!" Ron said coldly.

Harry felt like he'd been slapped. Either that, or somebody threw cold water on his face, snapping him out of his anger. Perhaps it was a bit of both. As he looked into Ron's eyes, he saw that the young wizard's eyes were swimming with unmasked pain and hurt and rage.

"You were gone! _We_ were torn up for months after her disappearance. _We_ looked everywhere for her. _We_ had to resort to getting the Ministry involved and try tracking her. And then we tried speeding up the search to find you to get help, but there was nothing for us to do! We couldn't find her, we couldn't find you . . ." Ron wiped at his face and took a step back.

He watched, feeling helpless as his old friend turned his back, letting his head fall skywards. He didn't think he could remember a time where Ron was ever quite this sullen and serious. Not even after the war was over and everybody was grieving.

The sight of Ron like that helped put a stop to his spinning mind and focus his thoughts. It didn't make things any easier, though because so many questions were forming in his head. Was she okay? Had she been kidnapped? Did she go on her own? Had someone been threatening her . . .? His fists clenched at the thought and his stomach turned. The idea of someone threatening her made him sick. He sincerely hoped that wasn't the case.

"Is that why you came to New York?" Harry asked quietly. Ron nodded with his back still turned and Harry's heart sunk. "I was there you know?"

At that, Ron turned around with narrowed eyes. "What?"

Harry nodded and looked away. "I had just left five minutes before you got there." He snorted in disgust and felt very frustrated with himself. "Five minutes. If I had just waited, I would have been there. I would have helped."

Silence passed between them and Harry couldn't recall ever feeling this uncomfortable around Ron. They'd always been so at ease with each other. From the word 'go' they'd been best mates, despite the differences they shared, _because_ of them. And he'd ruined everything. Yet, as strange as it sounded, he couldn't bring himself to regret that one night with her. He just couldn't.

But he could try and set things right.

"What do you need me to do?" asked Harry.

"Do?"

"To help with the search. Whatever you need me to do, name it and it's done."

Ron turned back around and cocked his head to the side. His eyes were filled with a wary, tentative hope and Harry felt marginally better about it. "You can light some fire under peoples' asses. They're not taking this seriously anymore and it's not a priority—"

"Done."

The other wizard was still skeptical. "You realize that means you'll have to throw your name around, right? You hate doing that."

Harry shook his head. "True. But if it means finding Hermione, then I don't care."

After further scrutinizing the dark-haired boy, Ron finally seemed to be convinced and the relief in him was evident. "Thanks." Once more, a quiet hushed over Grimmauld Place, a result of neither friend knowing what to do or say. There was a time once where this wouldn't have bothered Harry, but now it did. "Why are you here?" Ron suddenly asked, changing the subject and breaking the silence.

Harry's brows furrowed together in confusion. "I told you—"

"I know," he interrupted. "You're here because of work. But why are you _here_? It must be something serious if you've been placed in England."

Harry sighed and nodded. "Muggle killings have been taking place in the States."

Ron's eyes narrowed even further and he looked perplexed. "So why are Aurors looking into that?"

"Because it's Avada Kedavra that's killing them," Harry said quietly.

He knew it was against the rules to be telling Ron all of this. But it was keeping the silence at bay and even though in the back of his mind he knew that it wasn't, this nearly felt like old times when they were discussing things like Voldemort. It felt right telling Ron.

Plus it helped that this was distracting him from his over-active imagination. If he weren't talking about this, he would be thinking of all the things that could have happened to Hermione, all the reasons why she wasn't here anymore . . . And the look on Ron's face wasn't helping matters. He looked just as devastated as Harry felt and all he wanted to do was make it better. He wanted to put things right again and the urge to jump up and search the entire globe for her if it was necessary became prominent, so he was very thankful that Ron was providing this distraction.

The other wizard scrunched his nose and scratched at his head. "But why muggles? Muggle-born witches or wizards I could _try_ to understand, but muggles?"

"Same questions we're asking, Ron."

"How many?"

"Four. Four in the last five months, no obvious connections, and no solid leads."

"Blimey, that sucks. But wait a second. If you don't have any leads, why are you here?"

"Because my boss is a moron," he said with a snort. "He thinks Lucius Malfoy is the mastermind behind this."

"Not bloody likely," Ron said under his breath.

That sentiment definitely peeked Harry's interest. "Why do you say that?"

"I actually came across that soddy old git a few weeks ago. Pompous as ever. I swear, I'd like to give him a good kick in the—"

"Ron. Focus," he said, unable to contain his smirk. He was glad to see some things never changed.

"Right. Anyway, I was saying I highly doubt it's Lucius you're after because when I saw him, he was weak."

"What?" Harry asked, unable to contain his surprise.

He was an escaped convict and he had people seeing him on a daily basis? Where was the justice? Harry could only guess that the old sod had enough money to throw around to make the mess go away. After all, he had no master to return to anymore, so why did it matter if he escaped?

Ron nodded. "Yeah. He was acting like nothing was wrong, but he could barely do the simplest spells. I've actually spoken with Malfoy about it and he told me he's had to stop in and check on his dear-old dad more than a few times. Azkaban apparently did not agree with that old stiff. Lucius Malfoy can barely produce a stunning spell. I doubt he'd be able to do Avada Kedavra."

Harry cursed under his breath. "I figured as much. Great. Now we're back at square one. Could be anyone."

Another period of uncomfortable that dreaded silence passed. Harry wanted desperately to ask about his family, but he wasn't quite sure how receptive Ron would be to the idea. After all, Harry was inclined to agree with Ron on the matter. He should have at least stayed in touch, even if it was a one-way communication system. Besides, it was obvious things had changed, especially if Ron was speaking civilly to Malfoy.

He was also itching to question Hermione's case, but he restrained himself. Now that they weren't speaking about anything, his head was starting to get away from him again and the glazed over look in Ron's eyes coiled around his heart like a vice. The grief in the young man's eyes was nearly too much to handle. Anger he could deal with. He knew how he was supposed to react to that. But this? What was he supposed to do or say to make this better? He wasn't God. There was no magical to fix everything. He was just at a complete and total loss.

"Mum's fine," Ron whispered, interrupting his thoughts. "So is Dad."

"Good," he said, unable to contain his relief.

"I'm sure they both really want to see you while you're here. They've been worried sick about you. Ginny, too."

"Ron, I'm—"

"Don't even say you're sorry," he interrupted. "The only reason I'm not pounding you into a bloody pulp right now is because of my mum and sister. You have no idea how much grief you've caused my family."

He was starting to get a little angry now. Ron could have helped alleviate some of that grief if he hadn't been so blinded with his own hurt and anger at Harry's decision. While Harry had an idea of why nothing was said, that didn't mean he wasn't getting irritated.

"And what about you?" he snapped. "I know you didn't tell them I was leaving, Ron, so don't try and pin all of this directly on me. You helped in the pain department."

Ron's eyes narrowed into tiny slits. "I kept quiet because it would have devastated them either way. I was looking out for my family. You think it would have changed things had I said, 'Oh hey, Mum, Harry just wanted me to tell you that he's taking off and not saying goodbye to anyone. When's lunch?' Think again," he retorted. "If they had known you couldn't be bothered to say one word to them before you left after everything we've all been through together, that would have only made things worse. You left, Harry. It's time to deal with the consequences of your actions."

Well, he was definitely just put in his place. Ron may be a lot of things, but he loved his family with every fiber of his being and would do anything to protect them.

Harry sighed. "You're right," he said quietly. "I know how hard things must have been—"

"No you don't! Did you know that reporters camped outside the Burrow for weeks after you left?"

Harry's head snapped in Ron's direction. "What?"

Ron nodded and gave him a bitter smile. "Of course they did. They followed Ginny everywhere, despite her claims that you'd broken up with her ages before you left. According to them, you'd still spent time with her after it all, so she must know things. They knew you were practically family, so surely_somebody_ knew the inside scoop on Harry Potter."

He cursed and wiped at his face angrily. His frustration was growing more and more each second and he began questioning his decision to leave, even though it was pretty pointless to do so. His family had been stalked because of him. It may not have been directly because of him, but it was his decision that fueled the hounding.

"They tailed Hermione, too," he said quietly.

"Are you kidding?" he shouted angrily.

"You know I'm not," he said through his teeth. "They wouldn't leave me _or_ her alone for months. They badgered us longer than they did Mum and Dad, and it was more than enough to get me angry. Hermione was having a hard enough time dealing with everything without being reminded on a daily basis that you weren't there anymore."

He watched Ron's jaw clench and he looked angrier than he had before. That was Harry's tip-off right there that something else was going on. "What else?"

"It's nothing," he mumbled.

"I'm not stupid! I know you're not telling me something, now what is it?" he said angrily.

Ron hesitated. "Those bastards actually got Hermione injured one time. It makes my blood boil still," he said with anger glinting in his eyes. Although, Harry wasn't quite sure where that anger was directed.

"What happened?" he asked in alarm, feeling his own temper flaring.

"I'm not exactly sure, but she was trying to get to an apparation point to avoid them and she tripped over something and nearly got trampled. It landed her with a trip to St. Mungo's," he said with a clenched jaw. "She tried to brush it off as no big deal, but Mum wasn't having it. That was the closest she ever came to canceling her subscription," he said with a smirk. But that reminiscent smirk soon faded into a frown. "Then there was one more incident with her."

"Another one?" Harry asked exasperated. "Did she get hurt again?"

"Not that time, no. It was just one reporter. But it really unsettled her. She came back to the apartment in a right state. She was trembling."

"Did she tell you what happened?" he asked, even though he knew what the answer would be.

As predicted, Ron shook his head. "No. It happened about a month or so before she took off and part of me still thinks that particular incident had something to do with her leaving. The whole thing was strange anyway because it had been a while since we'd had reporters bothering us for information. Three years, in fact. I asked her to tell me what was wrong, but she wouldn't say anything. She said something about dogs sleeping—I think it's one of those muggle sayings she's obsessed with, but I didn't quite understand what she was on about—and then she went on a rant about how she wished those reporters would focus on their own lives instead of prying into others.

"I hadn't seen her that upset about reporters since the whole mess with Rita Skeeter happened back during the tournament. She wasn't even that fussed with them in the beginning. She just ignored them. But this one got to her. Whoever it was got under her skin and I would really love to know which one it was so I could find them and do some kind of damage to them."

Harry felt the same way. He wanted nothing more than to give whichever reporter who hassled Hermione a good punch in the face. His hands tightened into fists and he silently cursed those reporters. They had no respect for his right to privacy and it made his blood boil. The leeches even went so far as to tail his friends and family just for a story and he wanted to go and hex every single staff member of the _Prophet._ Damn nosy bastards.

A glittering object caught his attention and he promptly picked it up and threw it across the room. He didn't feel any better when the item broke into tiny shards. He thought smashing something would help, but it only made him angrier and caused him to want to break something else. Ron jumped in surprise and glanced at Harry warily.

"Come on Harry, calm down. And stop blaming yourself, because none of us did. It's not your fault those people are worse than bloodhounds. Besides, it happened a year ago."

"You had your time to be angry about it. Let me have mine," he snapped.

Ron sighed and a grim expression returned to his face. "Look, I'm sorry, but I have to ask this." He took a deep breath and looked Harry straight in the eyes. "Do you have any idea where she could be or why she would have left?"

He didn't bother keeping the surprise off his face. It seemed to be a ridiculous question considering he'd had no communication with her for the last five years. "Why would I know the answer to either of those questions? You would have a better idea than I would."

"You're kidding me, right?" Ron asked in pure disbelief. "You were closer to Hermione than I ever was," he said bitterly. "And don't bother trying to deny it. She would tell you things with no problem at all, but it was like she forgot how to talk around me! Unless of course it had to deal with you," he said with a laugh.

And it looked like they were back to the anger portion of the conversation. If he was being honest with himself, he wished they would just have an actual fight and be done with it instead of doing this whole dance bit they were doing now. He knew Ron was angry and while he admired the restraint the other boy seemed to have developed over the years, it didn't change the fact that it would probably be best to just get everything out in the open once and for all. Minus the fact that he slept with Hermione. That would just be pointless to bring up since it was never going to happen again, anyway.

"Ron—"

"Look, I just came by to tell you about Hermione. If you can think of anything, just let me know because we're still searching for her. And now that you're here, we can pull more resources into the effort since we don't have to use them on you anymore." The redhead winced, as though he only just realized how that sounded. He sighed and ran hand through his mop of hair. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant—"

Harry cut him off. "I know what you meant."

The youngest male Weasley nodded sharply. "Here's my new address," he said as he reached in his pocket and tossed a piece of paper on the table.

"Ron—"

But before he could say anything, Ron was gone. Harry's jaw tightened and he sighed. "I really need to get tighter wards on this place," he mumbled.

* * *

Once word got out that Harry Potter was, indeed, back in London, the media went into a frenzy, as predicted. Things had gotten to be so hectic that he didn't even have that much time to think about or process Ron's visit, which also meant that he had little time to spend on the side in helping with the search. And his so-called incognito disguise hadn't done a damn thing. The next day when he'd gone back to meet up with his team, they'd been spotted sitting in a café. Harry's disguise, needless to say, had failed miserably.

Of course, it hadn't been for lack of trying. They'd nearly gotten away with it until Jim had opened his big mouth and accidentally yelled at him in a moment of frustration and called him, "Potter." Jim had been on the receiving end of hateful glares from all three of his team members and they all went to the nearest apparation point and got out of there as fast as they could.

Thanks to that incident, they couldn't go out in public without being ambushed. Harry felt awful about it and wished there was something he could do. This wasn't something he wanted his team to have to go through and they were getting hit with questions and flashes because they were simply_spotted_ with Harry.

He had to give them credit though. In the week since 'the incident,' his team members were sticking by him like glue. All three of them were fiercely loyal and he couldn't have asked for a better team. And they were all helping him communicate with his godson on a daily basis as well. They let him use their owls to send mail and helped with spells to block off his fireplace from the floo network. They truly were a godsend.

And somehow, in the week since he'd been back, Ron remained the only person that he encountered. He didn't understand it. The anticipation that he was inevitably going to run into another member of the Weasley clan was unsettling and he wondered why no one else had popped over to Grimmauld Place. With George having helped set up the alarm system on the house, he was certain other family members would know where he was by now.

As it was, though, he didn't really have much time to think about anything other than his caseload, which, he was highly thankful for. His busy schedule kept him from thinking too hard about Hermione's disappearance, even though he had kept his promise to Ron and used the pull of his name to try and get an advantage on the search for her. He hated doing that and drawing attention to himself, but he was desperate. If his name could help find her, then so be it.

He shook himself from those thoughts and forced himself not to focus on Hermione any longer, even though she was always there in the back of his mind. Things regarding the muggle killings had not improved. The four of them were starting to get discouraged and the press wasn't helping matters. Out of the three of his team members though, Jim was the one that was grumbling the most, much to Harry's amusement. After all, he'd been the one to 'out him' so-to-speak, and he was the one complaining.

"What's the big deal?" he asked offhandedly as Harry was getting them settled into Grimmauld Place. They had tried remaining at the hotel, but it just wasn't working. So Harry suggested they stick together and come stay with him. "I mean it's just you."

Harry blinked. "Thanks, Jim."

"Sorry," he moaned. "It's just since news got out you were here, I've barely been able to take a piss in peace. I don't exactly like being stared at while I'm doing my business."

"I don't think anybody does," Harry remarked absently.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Not the point! How the hell did they even figure out who I am? They barely had time to see me! And I'm not exactly known for anything. Oliver, I can understand—you were on that Puddles United thing—"

"Puddlemere United," Oliver said through clenched teeth. Harry quirked brow in amusement. "What?" Oliver snapped. "If he's going to belittle Quidditch, he could at least get the name of the team right."

"I wasn't belittling anything! I was simply pointing out that—"

"You called it 'that Puddles United thing'!" Oliver shouted back.

"I was close!" he countered.

"You were not! Puddlemere United hardly qualifies as little piles of liquid on the ground!"

Harry was getting ready to say something when Claire beat him to it. "Really boys. It's a silly game."

He groaned. He saw Oliver turn his head towards Claire and Jim backed away looking slightly frightened. "Just a game?" he asked in appalled voice.

Feeling frustrated and not wanting to hear Oliver's speech on how Quidditch was life, Harry interrupted him. "As much as I'm looking forward to hearing you profess your undying love for Quidditch, I must insist that we move on and focus on getting you lot settled in."

"But—"

"Claire, you'll have the room across the hall from Oliver," he said, ignoring Oliver. He tried to hold back a grin as Oliver huffed and folded his arms while he mumbled under his breath. "Jim, you'll be next to Claire—and wipe that smirk off your face. I said you'll be _next_ to Claire, not sharing a room with her," Harry reprimanded.

For as long as he could remember, Jim had been sweet on Claire, who was utterly oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. She thought Jim found her to be merely attractive and she refused to indulge him in that aspect. But Harry knew better. He knew all too well the looks Jim would cast her when she wasn't looking and it irritated him beyond belief that he played off his feelings as a joke.

"Too bad," he said as his smirk grew. Claire had the grace to flush with embarrassment and looked down at the floor.

It made Harry angrier still that Jim was, yet again, not owning up to how he really felt. He glared at the blonde. "Like I'd subject her to you," he shot back. Jim's grin faded away, as did his playfulness.

Tensions rose in the hallway and Harry cleared his throat, excusing himself. "Meet down in the living room in about a half hour or so."

Harry retreated to his room in a separate wing of the house. The team had agreed, despite his adamant protests, that he deserved his privacy and at the moment, he was extremely happy he'd agreed in the end.

He shut the door and flopped on his bed, burying his head in his pillow.

He hadn't meant to be so short with Jim, but his attitude annoyed Harry. He recognized that Claire felt the same way about Jim, but she wasn't going to be some friend-with-benefits girl. He didn't understand why his friend was being so idiotic about his feelings. Those two could be together with no problems, yet Jim was creating unnecessary friction and making it next to impossible. If he'd been so lucky with Hermione . . .

Harry groaned into the pillow and put it over the back of his head. He was pathetic.

Why did everything always have to fall back to her? Why couldn't he get over this?

It wasn't as though he hadn't tried. When he'd first gotten to the States, he'd been so hurt and bitter that he'd dated any girl who would have him to try and get Hermione out of his system. Of course, he supposed he couldn't technically call what he'd done dating. It had been more like a string of one-night stands. Usually, he couldn't even remember the girl's name the next morning.

Kate had been less than pleased with him when she'd discovered his idea of 'dating'. She had come over to his apartment one morning and found his date in his kitchen wearing his shirt. When he'd come out to greet her, Kate had asked him to introduce her to his friend. He'd stumbled over the name and when he'd ventured a guess, he'd discovered he hadn't even gotten the first letter right. The date had stormed out of the apartment after getting dressed and Harry had felt thoroughly embarrassed by the time it was all said and done.

Kate had scolded him something awful and it was then that she'd made him realize that he hadn't even been close to being over Hermione. Plus, what he'd been doing was irresponsible and she hadn't failed to point Teddy out, which had made him feel even worse.

So he'd put a stop to his short-lived hedonistic lifestyle and pulled himself together. He owed Kate a lot. He owed her everything, in fact. Thinking about Kate resulted in thoughts about Teddy, which made him homesick. He hoped they could get this case solved quickly. He wanted to return home to his godson.

As he continued moping in the silence of his room, he heard a knock at the door. "Come in," he said, though it came out muffled and he wasn't sure they could hear.

Sure enough, the knock came again and Harry took out his wand and opened the door for whoever it was. "Harry? It's time for our meeting," Oliver said.

He pulled his head out from his pillow and nodded a thank-you. "I'll be down. Give me a minute to collect myself, Wood."

"Sure," he said quietly and then shut the door behind him.

Harry slowly got out of bed and ran a hand through his messy hair. Ugh. He was going to have to apologize to Jim—he'd been out of line with that comment and he right well knew it, too. He had a feeling this was going to be a rather unpleasant meeting . . .

* * *

And an unpleasant meeting it was. After an hour and a half of intense disagreements from the three male members of the team, they finally decided to call it a night and start fresh in the morning.

Once Ron had informed him of Lucius's weakened state, he relayed that information to the team and they had all come to a conclusive agreement that Malfoy was not their culprit. Which was what was causing the further bickering earlier. After they'd informed Jerry of their findings, they'd been ordered to stay on and do further searching. Their boss was convinced that it was one of the Death Eaters and, while Harry didn't want to admit it, he was inclined to believe Jerry was correct.

Of course, that was the only thing he, Oliver, and Jim had been on agreement with. Claire kept to herself for the most part, trying to play Devil's Advocate for the three of them when things got bad, but she got shut down so often that she eventually ended up just staying quiet for the entire time. Normally, Harry wouldn't have stood for that. Any time Claire went into one of her quiet modes, he would ask for her input and opinions, but this time . . . he had too much on his mind. Not that that was a proper excuse for allowing her to be excluded from having her opinions heard, but it was the best he could come up with.

He wiped at his face and wished he wasn't acting like such a douche bag, but sometimes, he just didn't seem to have control over his actions. _That_ was something he hadn't mastered yet, unfortunately.

Sighing, he glanced at his clock and crinkled his nose in distaste at the time. He really needed to start going to bed earlier. But first, he needed a shower before he even thought about lights out, so he made his way to his bathroom and was showered within ten minutes, thankfully. He was so tired, though, he was surprised he managed so quickly. After he was finished, he rummaged through his drawers for sweatpants before settling on a plain gray pair.

He put them on quickly and fell face forward onto his bed before he turned over on his back. This was one good thing about being in Grimmauld Place—his bed was damn comfortable. So far he's had no problems going to sleep right away.

But as the minutes ticked by, he realized he praised the bed gods all too soon. He was left staring up at the ceiling, unable to shut his mind off.

For one, his thoughts were drifting back to Hermione, as they had many times this past week ever since she learned she was no longer here. Where was she? Why would she just disappear like this all of a sudden? When Ron had first told him, he'd put all of his energy into the search when he wasn't working, even though he admittedly didn't have a lot of spare time. Not surprisingly, he was coming up empty handed and it was bothering him more than he would have liked it to. That's when he started using the pull of his name to help move things along. His frustration and worry was starting to get to him.

He wished he could find out who the reporter was. If he could, then maybe he could have a solid lead for once. His first hunch had been—and still was—Rita Skeeter because that woman was the only one he knew of that could Hermione so worked up. So far, though, he'd been unable to contact the wretched woman. She'd been successfully dodging him all week. Apparently she wasn't stupid enough to fall for an "exclusive interview" with him.

Before he could further ponder things, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. His head turned towards the intruding sound and he grumbled. What was the point of having his private wing if he couldn't get said privacy? "Come in."

"Harry?"

Great. It was Jim. He had certainly not been expecting this visit. Usually Jim brooded for days upon days and was stubborn to the death. He was thinking about being cross with him, but he had a feeling that Jim was here to have a serious talk. Even his walk was somber.

"What is it?" Harry asked quietly as he swung his legs over his bed.

Jim sighed quietly and sat in a chair that was close to Harry's door. The blonde clasped his hands together and stared directly at the floor before he took another deep breath. "I'm in love with her," he blurted out.

Harry smirked and didn't bother asking who with. He already knew. "I know. I'm pretty sure Oliver does, too."

Jim's head snapped up and he groaned. "Could I be any more pathetic? Why am I such a dick to her?"

"I wish I could tell you the answer to that. But I couldn't even begin to _guess_ why it is you do the things you do, mate. Sorry."

"She thinks I'm some kind of man-whore," he moped. "Which, is kind of true, but it's different with her. I don't want her to think I'm a slut!"

Harry laughed and leaned forward. He rested his elbows on his knees and grinned widely. "Oh man, you've got it bad."

"No need to inform me of that. I'm well aware," he remarked dryly.

"Have you thought about telling her so?"

Jim glared at him. "What kind of idiotic question is that? It's all I've been able to think about!"

Harry made a surrendering gesture. "Sorry. But can I give you some advice?"

"Why the hell not? It's not like I've got anything to lose."

"Thanks," Harry replied with his own glare. "Anyway, what I was going to say was that you and Claire do not have any drama, at least none that I'm aware of. You _don't_ have any drama with her, do you?" Jim shook his head and Harry nodded. "Good. So you see, things are simple. You have a good relationship established with her, she trusts you as a friend, and I'm pretty sure she might possibly feel the same way about you," he offered.

At that, Jim's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. Look, take it from me. Go after her while you have the chance. If you wait too much longer, some other bloke'll snatch her up. Trust me."

"Sounds like you're talking from experience."

Harry shrugged. "We all have our pasts."

"Ugh. Could you be any more cryptic? You know something, you've never given me a straight answer when it comes to your past here in England. I thought we were friends."

"We are."

"So then talk to me. You've been on edge ever since we've gotten back and I don't think it has anything to do with those stupid media people. They're like gnats, but I gather that you're used to them since you've had to deal with them for most of your life. So what's really been bothering you?"

He blinked in surprise. Harry honestly hadn't been aware Jim was quite that observant. Or that he knew him that well. It was slightly disconcerting. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give you the abridged version. To make a long story short, after I defeated Voldemort, the press would not leave me alone. I couldn't even go the grocery store with Teddy without being assaulted with camera flashes. I was feeling resentful because I wanted privacy and they wouldn't respect my need for it. Plus, on top of all that, I went and did something stupid," he mumbled.

"What's that?"

"I fell in love with my best friend," he said emotionlessly.

Jim's eyes narrowed as he frowned. "That doesn't sound so stupid to me. Happens more often than you think."

"I'm aware. Because my other best friend fell in love with her too, and she fell for him."

"Oh," he said as comprehension dawned on him. "That sucks."

"Yeah," Harry said solemnly. A weak smile came across his features as an idea occurred to him. He crossed the length of the room and walked over to his dresser. In the top left corner, buried underneath a pile of socks, lay a picture of him, Ron, and Hermione shortly after the defeat of Voldemort. It was taken on one of his good days.

He picked it up and gave it to Jim who smiled at it. "You looked happy," he commented.

"I was," he stated. "I hadn't quite figured out what I was feeling at that point."

"Oh," he said with a light chuckle. "I guess that explains it. Honestly, I don't see what the catch is in that guy," he commented. "Personally, I think you two look much better suited for each other.

While a part of him couldn't help but agree, there was something inside of him that took offence to Jim's comment about Ron. Ron was a good guy and he'd been Harry's best friend ever since he first discovered he was a wizard. Feeling the need to defend his friend, Harry snatched the picture back and threw Jim a stern glare. "Ron's a great guy. Hermione's lucky to have had him," he said.

"Had?"

"They broke up apparently. I've not spoken to either of them in the last five years. An old friend of mine was the one who informed me of the breakup."

"But I'm confused. Didn't that Ron guy tell you about Malfoy being piss weak?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. That was the first time I've spoken to him in years, though. It was a bit awkward."

"Well what did he want? Surely he had to have some kind of reason for coming to see you?"

His jaw clenched and his frustration only built when he looked down at Hermione's smiling face. "Hermione's missing," he admitted. "She took off. Nobody knows where she is."

"_That's_ what's gotten you so riled this past week. Does Oliver know?" Harry nodded yet again. "Do you know why she left?"

"Not one clue. She pulled a 'me' and left without really saying anything. There was one incident that just seems too convenient . . ."

"What's that?"

"Dunno, really. Ron mentioned that a reporter tracked her down. She went back to his flat very upset from what he told me. But she wouldn't tell him what happened. Ron thinks, and I agree, that that encounter has something to do with her sudden urge to leave."

"Do you know who the reporter is?"

"Looking into it. I have a hunch as to who it was, but she keeps avoiding me somehow. I figure that piece of filth is our best shot at finding anything out. But Ron and his family have been looking into it as well and have come up completely empty handed. Nobody's got anything substantial to offer."

"So basically you're just at another dead end?"

"Pretty much."

"Wish I could help," he said quietly.

Another knock interrupted their conversation and Oliver peeked his head through the door. "We're supposed to report to the Ministry at 7:30 sharp tomorrow morning. Jerry's just owled me about it."

That was odd. Why on earth did they need to go there?

"Did he tell you why?"

Oliver shook his head. "Not really. He was pretty vague in his letter." He paused and grew thoughtful as he leaned against the doorframe. "Is it just me or does—"

"Something seem off about this 'mission' we're on? Yeah, I reckon it does," Harry filled in.

"You know, I've been getting that feeling, too. This whole thing is bizarre if you ask me," Jim stated.

"Has Claire said anything about it to either of you?" Harry inquired.

"No," they replied in unison.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Harry sighed. "Well, there's not much we can really do besides follow orders for now. So I suppose we'd better get to bed since we've got such an early day tomorrow. Oliver, have you told Claire?"

"Yeah. She went to bed about twenty minutes ago."

"Right then. See you lot in the morning. I'm going to sleep," Harry said tiredly.

"Night," they both said.

That time when his head hit the pillow, he had no problems at all falling asleep.

* * *

The next morning, the four yawning Aurors reported to the Ministry of Magic as instructed. All of them were grumbling as they made their way to their respective meeting place and Harry was feeling a little grumpy that they had to be there in the first place.

When the four of them were spotted, the Prime Minister made a welcoming gesture and held his arms out wide. He gave them all smiles and Harry didn't fail to notice the greedy glint in his eyes. From what he could tell, this man was no better than Scrimgeour. And if he was right, he could only imagine the wheels spinning in that slimy git's head.

"Welcome to our humble abode. We expected you to arrive earlier in the week, but no matter. Please, step into my office."

He ushered the four of them inside and Harry bit back a smirk at the décor. Somehow he wasn't surprised at how outlandish this office was. He glanced over at Claire, who was looking down at the floor as her lips were twitching.

Jim didn't bother to hold back a grunt of disgust. He turned his nose upward and gave Harry a 'what-the-hell' look. Harry simply shrugged and motioned for Jim to pay attention.

"Harry, Harry, Harry. Welcome back," the Prime Minister said as he sat down in his ridiculously large chair. "Although I must say, your abrupt disappearance has caused quite a stir among the wizarding community. Sticky business that was," he commented.

The man in power, Leonard Fletcher, rubbed Harry the wrong way so much that he couldn't help being a little insolent toward him. He'd never met the man before in his life, yet Fletcher was acting as if he had a say in how Harry lived his life, like the Ministry owned him.

"Well, Minister, I wish I could say I was sorry, but that would be a lie, and after all, I must not tell lies," he said icily. He pulled down the sleeve of his work robes to further emphasize his unwillingness to be in his presence.

Jim's expression grew confused at that point and Claire glanced at him with shock written all over her face. She had never heard him backtalk to a superior before and as far as she was concerned, that scum in front of them was their indirect superior. Their reactions didn't surprise Harry since he'd never informed either of them of his past dealings with the Ministry. Oliver was the only one who was aware of the bad blood and he didn't look surprised in the slightest.

At his words, the Minister's eyes darkened significantly.

So it was as Harry suspected. Fletcher knew just about everything there was to know about Harry's life, including his schooldays. The other man's chest started heaving in anger and it looked very much like he wanted to curse Harry. Harry returned the icy stare and tensions rose in the room.

Oliver cleared his throat and spoke next, trying to pacify the situation as soon as possible. "Minister, with all due respect, would you mind telling us why we've been called into your office?"

"Right. Of course," he said through his teeth, still glaring at Harry. "I've called you all in because—"

A knock interrupted them and a lumpy looking woman with a pleasant disposition cheerfully peeked her head inside of the Minister's office. "Excuse me, Prime Minister?"

"Yes, what is it Lydia?"

"The other team has arrived. Should I send them in?"

"Yes, yes. Of course, please. Thank you, Lydia."

Lydia nodded and disappeared. But Harry's attention was now fully alert and he didn't like this one bit. "Other team, Minister?"

A sly grin formed on his lips and he motioned towards the door, which three more people came barreling through. Harry recognized two of them so far. Zacharias Smith, he noted distastefully. But Harry was going to keep an open mind. He may have been pompous back in their school days, but perhaps he'd changed since then.

The other person he recognized was none other Dean Thomas. He beamed at Harry. "You're back! Those rumors in the _Prophet _were true then?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm back. Just here on assignment though," he pointed out.

The other boy's face fell. "Oh. Ginny'll be disappointed to hear that."

"Ginny?" he asked, feigning ignorance. He had a feeling Dean and Ginny were still together.

Dean grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. She and I got back together. She's my fiancée now," he said proudly.

"Good for you," Harry said honestly. "I'm happy for you, Dean."

"Thanks!" His smile suddenly fell as he glanced back towards the door. "Oh. There's something you should probably know. It's about—"

But Dean did not have the chance to finish his thought. Harry's eyes stayed transfixed on the fourth figure that entered through the door. "Sorry I'm late. Lydia was showing me pictures of her two grandchildren. Cute little bastards."

His jaw dropped. "Malfoy?"

He greeted Harry with a curt nod and, much to his surprise, that all too familiar sneer he'd been expecting was absent. "Potter."

Harry looked over toward Fletcher, who had a gleeful grin on his face. "Mr. Malfoy's team will be joining yours. Mr. Potter, meet your new teammates."

* * *

Phew!

Sorry about the length of the chapter, but I couldn't really figure out a good place to cut it off. I probably could have stopped after Harry's meeting with Ron, but that would just delay you guys meeting present-day Hermione.

That being said, I apologize for the slight lag in this update. But I was very finicky with this chapter and I nitpicked it to death. I know that Ron's reaction probably doesn't make a lot of sense and a good chunk of readers might have been expecting a blow-out for their first meeting, but I wanted to get the point across that Ron's not the same person he was when Harry left. He's still got a temper on him, of course, but he's not quite as hot-headed or immature. He's had to grow up. Yeah, he's definitely pissed off at Harry, and they'll come to blows later. But he's putting Hermione first and trying to focus on finding her.

As for Hermione, she has her own reasons for leaving, which will be discovered in probably chapter 11ish maybe? You'll see **present-day Hermione** at some point during the **next chapter**, though, so the wait will finally be over! Hoorah! Kudos for your patience!

I'm still not sure how this chapter will be received, honestly. I'm nervous if you can't tell. Lol.

Also, I don't know if anyone's noticed the lack of Mrs. Black's portrait or not, and I probably shouldn't have drawn attention to that, but I was wondering it ever got removed in the end? My memory says no. But I just can't be certain. Anyway, for the purposes of this fiction, it'll be mentioned in later chapters that with Hermione's help, they discovered a powerful enough spell that enabled them to remove it. Just thought I'd address that in case anyone was wondering.

Okay, I think that covers most everything. I will be doing review replies shortly, but I wanted to get this update out there. Thanks for your patience!

Anyway, thanks goes to:

**pyroseyes, Mikeo6464, Aaron Leach, keske, A. Pikachu, paintinxxflowers **(3-times)**, pawsrule, jafr86, hippolina97, DocDoc, F5Chaos, toooldforthis, SorrisoD'amore, _Slanic_ **_(100th REVIEWER!)_**, Wesleyangirl13, **and** carbon12.11.**

_Slanic-_Lol. The next chapter is going to be published right now! And thank you! I'm glad you enjoy the writing style of this story. I appreciate your compliment and am very flattered! Also, you are my 100th reviewer to this story, so congrats to you! I wish there was some sort of prize or something I could hand out, but alas, I cannot. But I think it's awesome that you helped propel this into the triple digits, so thank you!

All right, then. It is time to peace out, my friends. I have more writing to work on, as the story is starting to catch up with the number of chapters I already have written. I'm going to try and stay ahead of the game with this. That being said, I probably won't post the next chapter until chapter 9 is completed. I've got the first bit of it written, so I'm hoping I'll get that accomplished rather quickly!

Until next time... ciao readers! You guys are awesome :D

**[EDIT:]** GRRRRR. Stupid fanfiction site. Lol. It took out all my line breaks and I didn't even notice. I was reading that to try and help me get back in the groove and then I noticed the scene jumps and I was like, "What the hell?" *rolls eyes*

Annnnd OMG, I am so incredibly sorry for this lag in my updates. I was doing so well with it and then I was just like "Erm." I am working on this little by little, though, I promise. I am determined that you all will get an update in May. Hopefully really early May. I know, I really suck. But, I just recently entered a monthly challenge at another website and I spent a lot of time on the one-shot for it and it paid off! I'm a finalist for it! *dances* But now that it's been submitted and all that jazz, I'm going to resume focus on Harry Potter. Promise!

**[EDIT 2:]** I have replaced the previous content and fixed the prime minister issue. It was bugging me and I wanted to rectify it, so I made up a new name for the job. Hope this is a little better!


	8. Chapter 8

"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 8

* * *

Harry gritted his teeth as his fists involuntarily clenched.

There was no way in hell he would work with Malfoy. He was tempted to quit before he did that.

He threw a menacing glare at the Minister and promptly turned on his heel. If he didn't get out of that room, he was likely to use some nasty spells on that slimy piece of scum. He was aware that he was setting a bad example for his team and that he should behave professionally, but his blood was boiling and his temper was beyond control at that point.

As he stalked out of the room, he ignored the calls of his teammates and focused on getting out the door. What the hell was going on around here anyway? He thought Malfoy was supposed to be working at the Department of Mysteries. That idiot had no business playing an Auror.

He was halfway across the Ministry when he heard a highly unwelcome voice beckon him back. "Potter!"

Reluctantly, he turned around to see an amused Malfoy standing behind him. "What do you want?"

He smirked. "Are you really that arrogant and self-absorbed that you would walk out on your teammates, on an assignment, just to spite me?"

"Get over yourself. This has nothing to do with you," he lied.

"Like I believe that."

"Look. I thought there was something wrong with this assignment from the moment we got put on it. And now that we're being paired up with you . . . Something's not right. Besides, I thought you worked in the Department of Mysteries? Why the hell are you heading a team of Aurors?"

"Well if you would have stayed back in Fletcher's office, he would have explained everything, but seeing as your ignorance won out yet again, I'll be forced to fill you in."

"I don't have time for this."

He started to walk off again when Malfoy stopped him, yet again. "If you want to find Granger, you'll make time."

Harry froze in his tracks and turned on that smug son of a bitch. "What the hell do you know about Hermione?"

"I know more than you think," he said with a smirk. "You think those killings were just happening in the States? They weren't. They were happening here, too."

"What does that have to do with Hermione?"

"Think about this for a second, Potter. What's next on a Death Eater's list after muggles?"

Dread clenched at Harry's stomach. He felt sick. "Muggle-borns," he said quietly.

Malfoy nodded. "That's right. And that means that your bushy-haired mud—" he winced and cut himself off, much to Harry's surprise, "muggle-born is in danger. Depending on who's behind these attacks, she could be the prime target."

"What do you mean?"

The blonde rolled his eyes and peered down his nose. "Surely you're not _that_ stupid are you? I mean you have to have some brains since you defeated the darkest wizard of the age. Why don't you use them?"

He shut his eyes as realization sunk in. "Me. You're talking about me."

"Bingo. She's a well-known weakness for you, Potter."

"But nothing about this case has any evidence that it has anything to do with me," he pointed out crossly.

Malfoy rubbed a hand over his face. "That's where you're wrong. You wouldn't have heard this back in the States, but there have been whispers here, Potter. I've heard your name being tossed about and it doesn't sound good."

Harry's jaw clenched and he grit his teeth together. Ah, hell. This was why he liked it back in the States. There weren't people plotting his demise at every turn he made. He'd barely been back in England for a week and there were already people coming after him. Fantastic. Now Hermione might be in trouble because of it.

"We have to find her," he said hurriedly after the information had sunk in. He started back towards the Minister's office when a thought occurred to him. He stopped and turned back around. "Wait a minute. That still doesn't explain you," he pointed out.

"That's not really your concern, is it Potter?"

"If I'm supposed to be working with you, then I at least need to know what your motives are. I don't want to have to spend every waking moment looking over my shoulder."

He was expecting some resistance, some smartass comments that Malfoy always delivered. But none came. Surprisingly, Malfoy complied with his request.

"Fine," he said through his teeth. "I'm here because I volunteered. I used to work in Magical Law Enforcement before I got transferred to Department of Mysteries, so I have plenty of experience just in case you were wondering. They wouldn't put some bloke off the streets in charge of a group of Aurors," he pointed out. "Even the Ministry's not _that _thick. Anyway, I heard they were having troubles and needed all the help they could get, so as I said, I volunteered.

"Besides that, this case revolves around Death Eaters, does it not? I would be the perfect person to go under and get information from them. All it would take is a little bit of sniveling and groveling and I'd be a shoe-in. The Malfoy family is well practiced in the dark arts," he said with a small hint of disgust.

Harry blinked. "Why? Why would you do this?"

Malfoy let out an annoyed, clearly irritated sigh. "It's simple. I owe you. Once this mission is done, consider us even."

"Even on what?" he asked, drawing a blank. What on earth was Malfoy on about? He wasn't aware of being owed anything.

"You really have no idea what you've done, do you? You killed the Dark Lord," he commented.

"What's your point?"

"Forget it," Malfoy said, clearly annoyed. "If you can't figure it out, I'm not going to spew my life story to _you_. Now put your big boy panties on, Potter, and march back in there like you have a pair."

Harry sighed as he watched Malfoy head back to the office. "What fun this is going to be," he muttered under his breath.

* * *

As soon as their meeting adjourned in the Ministry, Harry excused himself from his team. He knew the majority of the people on Malfoy's and he figured he'd get to know the other girl eventually.

He apparated over to Ron's new address that he'd been given and stood outside the door, pacing. Should he knock? Did Ron really mean what he said about coming to him if he found out anything new?

Harry bit his lip and finally decided to knock. Nerves threatened to swallow him whole as he stood outside, just waiting. He was nearly getting ready to leave when he Ron appeared beside him in the hallway with shocked eyes.

"Harry. What are you doing here?"

"I was just . . . I don't know," he mumbled.

"Is everything okay?" Ron asked with obvious concern.

"Not really. I have some news you might be interested in."

Ron paled. It was clear he automatically knew what this visit was about and he nodded while he got his key out. "Sorry about the mess," he said quietly as he opened the door.

When Harry peeked inside, he was surprised to find that it wasn't really that messy at all. Not compared to some of the other whoppers he'd seen from Ron. There were items of clothing strewn about, books out of place, a few dishes in the sink, but that was about it. The place screamed Ron. It was nice.

"Doesn't matter. I've seen worse from you, remember?" he asked with a small grin.

"Right. Yeah. Guess that's true. Do you want something to drink?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Not right now. I'm okay. Thanks, though."

"Well I'm getting myself a butterbeer. Just picked some up from Hogsmeed yesterday."

"What were you doing in Hogsmeed?"

Ron shrugged as he opened the refrigerator. "I'm helping George with the joke shop now and he needed a few things from there, so he volunteered me to go get them," he said with an eye roll. "He was struggling keeping up with the shop by himself, so I quit playing Quidditch and became his partner so he wouldn't have to shut down. That place is everything to him."

"I know," Harry said sullenly. "It's good of you to help out. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's cool. I get to help with the inventions now instead of being the test dummy," he said with a smirk.

Harry laughed and found a seat on the couch. "What was the one he invented that he tested on me?"

Ron grinned even wider. "That was a smelly whoopee cushion. It was a variation on the muggle version. He rigged it to where it actually produced a smell when you sat on it," he finished with a laugh.

"Oh I remember that," Harry recalled fondly. "It smelled awful."

"The look on your face was priceless, though. You probably turned three different shades of red, mate."

"I should get one of those to use on Dudley," he said with a smirk.

"Do you see Dudley?" Ron asked with a bit of a bite.

Clearly, he believed Harry should have nothing to do with him. But the last time he'd seen his cousin, things had been different. The youngest Dursley hadn't exactly been his favorite person in the world—quite the opposite in fact—but it was Dudley who had made his relatives see reason. Dudley had been the only one to even attempt to call a truce between the years of pent up animosity. He had a feeling it was the boy who once bullied him to no end that had convinced his aunt to give Harry a chance. He had discovered that Dudley wasn't all bad. Just misguided.

"No," Harry said as he shook his head. "Saw my aunt and uncle a few months back, though."

"Really? And how'd that go?"

"Surprisingly . . . okay. I don't think we're ever going to be 'best-mates,' or anything, but we're not enemies anymore," he stated truthfully. "At least on my aunt's part."

Ron nodded. "Good," he said as he shifted a few items of clothing on the couch so he could sit down. "So what was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

Harry expected some hesitation to stop him from telling Ron about everything, but there was nothing. No barriers. He just started spilling out his guts and told him about Malfoy and his theory behind the killings.

A feeling of familiarity overtook him and he realized how right this felt. He had missed this. He had missed Ron. Wood and Kate were great and he was very grateful for both of them. But they weren't Ron. It took five years of being gone for him to realize this. He just hoped he wasn't too late on the uptake.

At the end of his explanation, Ron let out a breath. "So you think Malfoy's telling the truth, then? You think Hermione might be in some kind of danger?"

"It fits, doesn't it? It makes sense."

"Yeah. But I don't want it to," he finished quietly. He wiped a hand over his face and sighed. "Blimey, where do we start? I mean we've looked _everywhere_, Harry, and nothing! We've checked all the places she used to go on holiday to with her family, the places she's always talked about wanting to visit. There's something we've been overlooking and it's there in the back of my mind. I know it is."

"I've been thinking of all the same places, too. I just wish we could talk to that reporter that cornered her," he said through his teeth. "Might give us something substantial."

"Tell me about it," Ron said glumly. "Are you absolutely one hundred percent certain that Hermione's never mentioned anything to you? Nothing at all?"

Harry let out a frustrated sigh and was about to shake his head no when a distant beyond distant memory came to him. He'd suppressed it for so long now, but he shut his eyes and allowed it to overtake him . . .

_A sweet, flowery scent mixed with the unmistakable smell of sex filled his nostrils. He smiled as he looked down at Hermione, who was curled into him. His arm was draped around her small body protectively and he rested his chin on the top of her head._

__

"What are you thinking about?" he whispered as he ran his fingers though her hair.

"Just . . . stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"It's not important."

"If it's on your mind, of course it's important," he stated. "You don't brood over non-important things."

He felt her smile against his chest and he couldn't believe it, but he only fell even more in love with her at that moment. It was a feeling that he'd never quite experienced before. All he knew was that he didn't want it to go away.

"Do you ever just want to get away?"

If you only knew,_ he thought to himself. He merely smiled and nodded. "All the time."_

__

"Do you ever actually think about where you would want to go?"

He shrugged and thought about this carefully. These were dangerous waters he was treading. There was one place he'd always wanted to go, but that was private to him. He wasn't sure he could part with that information.

"All the time," he repeated.

"Like where?" she asked as she looked up at him. Her eyes were so curious and welcoming. It was difficult to keep focused.

"Anywhere. Everywhere. I've never really been anywhere outside of London. Can you believe that's the furthest place I've ever been?"

_"Really? You didn't_—" _she grimaced and cut herself off. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I guess the Dursleys didn't really take you on holiday did they?"_

__

He smiled. "It's okay," he said into her hair. "There are worse things than missing out on seeing something like the Alps. Now enough stalling."

She sighed into him. "Sometimes I wish I could just get away from here. I've never really given it much thought, but honestly, I don't know if I want to live out the rest of my life here."

"Where would you go? France? You said you liked it there back in our fifth year."

Surprise lit up her features. "You remember that?"

"'Course I do. I remember lots of things," he said with a smirk. "Just because I rarely paid attention to my classes doesn't mean I didn't pay attention to other things."

"Oh," she said as a flush crept up her neck.

"So . . . was I right?"

She gave him a smirk of her own and shook her head. "Sorry, no. Very nice guess, though. It's just that I've never told anybody this. It's always been one of my deepest desires."

_"Ooh, I'm intrigued. You _have_ to tell me now."_

__

The laugh that escaped her lips caused him to smile. He loved her laugh. "I've always wanted to go to Greece."

"Greece?"

_She nodded. "Yes. I would love to see the old ruins there. All that history. It just fascinates me. In my Ancient Ruins class back in Hogwarts, our professor showed us some slides of the ruins and ever since I always wanted to see them up close . . ."_

Harry's eyes snapped open and Ron looked at him, alarmed. "What is it?"

"I know where she is. Get your things together."

After he stood up and started gathering some of Ron's clothes in the living room area, he made his way towards the bedroom and barely heard Ron calling his name.

"Harry! Stop! Slow down. What are you talking about?"

"Hermione! I know exactly where she's gone."

Confusion crossed Ron's features and he grabbed Harry by the shoulders. "Wait, wait, wait. How? How do you know where she is?"

"Okay, maybe I don't know _exactly_ where she is, but I at least know what country she's in and that's a start."

Frustration lit Ron's features. His jaw started moving back and forth and Harry watched him attempt to calm himself. "Harry . . . this isn't like when we were kids, all right? I can't just follow you blindly because you've had a light bulb suddenly go off in your head. I have responsibilities here. I can't take off on a whim."

Some of Harry's excitement and eagerness was starting to deflate. Of course Ron had a point. It was a good one, too. He couldn't really believe that he'd expected Ron to just trace around after him because he said so. It wasn't like before. They didn't have the same kind of naïve, innocent friendship they once had. Too many things had happened between them for that kind of trust and loyalty to still remain.

But how was he going to tell Ron the truth without telling him . . . the truth? He couldn't very well admit to having shagged his girl. That wouldn't go over very well. Their friendship would really be down the crapper, then.

"Ron," he began carefully. "I just remembered a very insignificant conversation that we'd once had and she mentioned wanting to go to Greece. That's all."

He tried to force himself not to grimace. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. He was sure to Hermione it _had_ been insignificant.

"And you just remembered it? Just out of the blue? Seems a bit unlikely."

Harry's jaw clenched as he shot Ron a cool stare. "And we're back to the accusations again, is that how this is going to go?"

Ron sighed after a pregnant, nearly unbearable silence. "No. Sorry," he mumbled. "But you're _absolutely_ sure she said Greece?" he questioned.

"Positive," Harry said determinedly. "Like I said, I don't know _where_ in Greece, but at least we've got it narrowed down to a possible country."

Ron nodded. "We haven't even really thought about Greece. We did a brief sweep of it, but there was never any real cause to look specifically at that particular country, you know?" He wiped a hand over his face and leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "Okay, so how do we narrow the search down, then? I mean I can ask Dad to call in some favors—"

Harry shook his head and gave Ron a brief smirk. "I've got contacts there that are professional trackers. If anyone will be able to find Hermione, it'll be them."

"But what if—"

"Look, chances are, Hermione's gotten herself an alias. She's too smart to keep a name that stands out. They're not going to track her through documentation. They'll do it by scent."

Ron looked baffled. "By scent?" His expression changed to exasperated. "Blimey Harry—you've befriended werewolves?"

Harry grew sheepish. "They were friends of Lupin's and let me tell you, having a werewolf on your side can come in handy."

"I'll take your word for it," Ron said sarcastically.

"I'm going to need something of Hermione's. Do you still have anything by chance?" he asked hopefully.

"I do actually," Ron commented. "Hang on."

While he disappeared, Harry scribbled a brief note to Costas and tried his best to explain the urgency of the favor without giving too much away. He was finishing it up when Ron came back out with a sweatshirt that he reluctantly handed Harry.

"It was her favorite sweatshirt."

Harry hid a chuckle. "And you nicked it from her?"

Ron ignored him and tossed the article of clothing at him. "Just make sure your friend doesn't lose it, got it?"

"Got it, klepto."

Ron flushed beat red.

* * *

After Harry and Ron discovered that Hermione was indeed in Greece, they made the necessary arrangements to go get her while they were waiting on the exact location. Ron had informed George what was going on and he'd been elated at the news. Ron said he'd practically shooed him out the door. And even though he was in the middle of the case, leaving would be no trouble at all for him as long as he left someone in charge while he was away.

So now, all that was left to do was wait. Costas had been none too pleased with Harry when the garment had been delivered with the letter. The smell on it had long since faded and he complained of having little to go on.

And that was why Harry had gone to Costas. The werewolf was an excellent tracker—among the best, if not _the _best. Harry knew he could rely on him.

He was currently at Grimmauld place with Ron and his team, trying to forget the million butterflies in his stomach. Scratch that—he was trying to forget the million _pterodactyls _in his knowledge that he could soon be facing the girl he'd run away from five years ago was front and center in his brain at the moment and just wanted to focus on something else. Anything else. Claire was actually helping in that department, thankfully. She was reprimanding Harry for his impulsiveness. _Funny _he thought to himself, _I thought I'd be getting this lecture from Wood._

"What are you thinking?" she scolded.

Harry shrugged as he tossed a few shirts into his duffle bag. "I'm thinking Wood can handle things while I'm away. I doubt we'll be gone long."

"But you—"

"Claire," Oliver interrupted. "Don't," he said with a slight warning tone. "Just back off."

"What if this is a trap, though?"

Ron snorted. "Harry can handle himself. Walking into traps is kind of his thing."

Claire paled at that and Harry scowled. "Thanks, Ron."

"Here to help," he said distractedly. "Besides, Chloe—"

"Claire."

Harry bit back a laugh. Both Claire and Jim had corrected Ron at the same time. Claire flushed a deep crimson color and he was certain that Jim had a bit of color creeping up his flesh as well.

"Sorry, I'm not the best with names," Ron admitted. "Anyway, _Claire_, you should be happy he's going away for a little bit."

"And why's that?"

"You don't know the history that he and Malfoy share. We were sworn enemies back in school. Sure, the guy's grown up since then, but things are going to be insanely tense when you lot have your meetings. And I don't envy you in the slightest," he finished.

"It's true, Claire," Oliver spoke up. "Malfoy was . . . different. He wasn't the Malfoy you met at Fletcher's office. There's real reason for the lingering animosity. This break is probably for the best."

Finally, Claire conceded. Albeit reluctantly, but she conceded. "Fine. Just be careful, please."

Harry smirked. "Don't worry about me. The most danger you'll have to worry about is from the hexes Hermione could use on me." At that, his smirk faded. Merlin, he'd forgotten about how angry Hermione was going to be when she saw him again and he inadvertently thought of the stunning spell she'd used on Neville in their first year. He turned to Ron feeling slightly less confident than he had before and involuntarily gulped. "Maybe we should go to New York and get my Invisibility Cloak."

Ron and Oliver winced.

Jim snorted. "Oh come on. Harry went up against that Dark Lord or whatever and since then has faced countless Death Eaters. You're seriously telling me you're afraid of one witch?"

Oliver grimaced again. "You've never met Hermione Granger, Demeter. She's a gifted witch. Brilliant, really. I've been on the receiving end of one of her hexes and it's not a fun experience."

Harry and Ron glanced at Oliver in shock. "When was this?" Ron asked. "She never told us she hexed you!"

Oliver shook his head. "Not repeating it, thanks. It was embarrassing enough going through it once. I'm just trying to emphasize that she was only in third year and managed to get one over on me."

"And," Ron offered, "back in our first year, she stunned one of our classmates. And I mean a _full_ stunning spell." Jim's eyes widened at that. "Starting to get the picture?"

Jim nodded. "Maybe you _should_ go get your Invisibility Cloak."

* * *

Once the cloak was retrieved, all that was left to do was wait.

Going back to the apartment to get it, though, had been harder than Harry imagined it would be and it was exactly why he hadn't gone back to get it in the first place. It had taken all of his willpower to not go over to Kate's apartment and check in on his godson. All that he'd had access to were letters from Kate and occasional floo visits. This was the longest he'd been away from Teddy in a long time and he'd forgotten how hard it had been on the first out of state assignment the team had been placed on.

He'd had to take Ron with him to the apartment just to have backup to keep him from going to Kate's. It was a good thing he'd had the foresight to man up and ask for help. His godson was his weakness. He couldn't help it. He adored that kid.

While they'd been in his flat, Ron had noticed pictures of him and Kate and had casually asked if she was his girlfriend. Harry had fought hard not to burst into laughter. Ron had been absolutely smitten with just a picture. In the end, he'd ended up having to keep Ron from going over to the neighbor's.

They were currently back at Grimmauld Place, waiting for Costas' reply. Ron had a far-off look in his eyes and he had a feeling it had nothing to do with Hermione.

"What's your nanny-friend's name again?"

Harry smirked. Even after all this time away, he still could read Ron like a book. It was a little comforting. "Her name's Kate."

"Is she dating anyone?"

Harry laughed. "No. And trust me. You would be a welcome change compared to her past boyfriends, Ron Weasley. A welcome change, indeed."

Ron's entire face turned cherry red. "I – I – didn't mean – I didn't s-say—"

"It's okay, Ron. I think you and Kate would get on great. I'll have to introduce you some time."

His friend's face lit up at that. "Really? Could you? I mean what's she like?"

Harry released an overwhelmed breath. Wow. He'd never thought of Kate romantically so he had no idea how to answer that. He couldn't deny she was pretty, but he'd never even thought about pursuing a relationship with his kind, friendly neighbor.

So he answered as best as he could. "Kate's . . . amazing," he said truthfully. "For me, she was the bright light at the end of a dark tunnel. She rescued me from one of the lowest points in my life. She's kind and patient and knows how to laugh. She's the keeper of my secrets and I trust her with my life. She's . . . she's been my best friend." Ron got quiet and Harry was surprised to find that he'd turned solemn, even. He frowned. "What?"

Ron shook his head. "Why? Why did you need to turn to a complete stranger if it was one of the lowest points in your life?"

"Ron—"

"I was your best mate, Harry! I know things were rough at best between us, but you could have trusted me! Whatever it was that you were going through, you could have come to me!"

"I don't know what you want me to say, Ron."

"The truth," he said quietly. "You owe me that, if nothing else. So lay it all out on the table for me once and for all. Why did you really leave? What was so bad that you felt the need to run?"

Harry put his head in his hands. How was he going to dodge this one? He couldn't tell Ron the truth. He just couldn't.

"You slept with Hermione, didn't you?" he asked flatly.

Harry's head snapped up in shock. "What?"

Ron's jaw clenched. "For years now, any time you would unwillingly enter my brain, I kept asking myself what could have been so bad. I mean, I knew things between us weren't all that great, but I figured we'd work through it. It wasn't like we'd always had a smooth-sailing friendship. We had our spats and periods where we wouldn't talk to each other before, so I didn't think this was any different. At least I convinced myself that it wasn't.

"And then when Hermione disappeared, I forced myself to wake up. The truth is, I think I've known since the day we went to the Burrow to hear about Dad's promotion, but I just refused to acknowledge it. You and Hermione . . . you were together. And don't bother lying. If you lie, I'll never speak to you again," he threatened.

"Are we really having this conversation right now?"

"Yes! Now seems to be a good as time as any."

"Ron—"

"Did you or did you not sleep with Hermione?" he asked through his teeth.

Harry was getting ready to finally say the big "yes" when the owl arrived with Costas' response and Hermione's sweatshirt. The bird was just sitting there, waiting for one of them to relieve him of his delivery. But neither of them moved and there was dead silence in the room.

Finally, Ron sighed and motioned towards the owl. "Go on. Go get the damn letter."

Harry reluctantly moved to retrieve the reply and he petted his bird's beak as a thank you. His finger was nipped affectionately before Hermes hooted and made for his food.

With timid and apprehensive fingers, Harry nervously tore the letter open.

_Harry,_

_I deserve some major compensation for this. That ratty old sweatshirt you so graciously "provided" for me was little to no help at all. But ask me if I managed to track her down. Go ahead. Ask me. _

_What's that, you say? Costas, did you find her?_

_Why yes, Harry, I did find her. And let me tell you something, mate, I've never had such a difficult time tracking down a human before. She's a tricky one, that Hermione Granger. I imagine she's just as difficult as you to track when you don't want to be found. _

_But, I digress. _

_Your friend is in Katapola, Amorgos-it's on an island off the coast of the Mediterranean. She appears to be healthy and happy. A tip—she's not going by Hermione Granger. Her alias is Jane Merion._

_Best of luck_,

_Costas_.

Harry's heart thumped wildly in his chest and he couldn't stop the grin from forming.

"What? What is it, Harry? Did he find her? Does he know where Hermione is?"

Harry's grin turned into a full-blown smile. "Yeah. He found her. Gave us the address and everything. And no wonder you guys couldn't find her—she's disguised her name. She's changed her middle name Jean to Jane and is using that as her first name and using Merion as her last. My guess is she's found something to do with the missing 'H' and 'E'; she's probably using it for a new middle name."

Ron laughed. "Good old Hermione. You called it from the moment I told you that she wasn't using her real name. You two really do think alike."

Harry shrugged. "It's just good sense if you're going in hiding not to use your real name."

"Right," Ron grinned. "Well then, let's go! What are we waiting for?"

In all the excitement over the location news, Harry had almost forgotten about the confrontation about Hermione. His smile faded and he looked to Ron uncertainly. "Ron—"

The other boy's face turned grim and he shook Harry's question off. "Later."

"But—"

"We'll talk about it _after_, all right? The last thing that needs to happen is for Hermione to find us fighting and tense. So . . . that conversation's going on the backburner right now. For now, let's concentrate on getting to Greece and talking Hermione into coming back home."

Harry nodded in agreement. "That's probably best," he said as he grabbed his Invisibility Cloak. "Ready?"

Ron sighed. "As I'll ever be. Let's go."

* * *

Harry had never felt more nervous in his entire life. His insides were being entirely uncooperative and his stomach was trying to inform him that it needed to throw up. He was doing his best to prevent that from happening.

His palms were clammy and sweaty and when they neared Hermione's workplace, Harry threw the cloak over himself hurriedly while Ron stayed out in the open. According to Costas, she was a teacher now. She was working with little kids in a muggle school.

Ron muttered under his breath. "I hate it when you use that thing, Harry. I always feel like a bloody idiot when I talk to you."

"So don't talk to me then," he pointed out. "You need to go to the office to find out which room Hermione's in."

"Right. Here we go."

Ron moved down the hall skittishly, as though he was afraid Hermione was going to pop out at any moment. Harry couldn't blame him, really. He was pretty exposed and would have no chance to collect himself if that were to happen.

Once they located the office, which was a little difficult since all the signs were in Greek, Ron went to the secretary and nervously wiped his hands on his pants. The secretary—an older woman that reminded Harry of Ron's mum—glanced at Ron curiously over her glasses. "Can I help you, young man?"

Harry blinked in surprise. After all the fuss with the Greek signs, the people speak perfect English? This woman didn't even sound like she knew how to _speak_ Greek. Go figure.

"I hope so. I'm here to see He—" Harry nudged Ron with his elbow and he rubbed at his side. "Sorry, I'm here to see Jane Merion. I've forgotten which room number she's in, I'm afraid. Could you point me in the right direction? I was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago," he added for good measure.

The woman peered down at Ron and Harry was feeling nervous. The look she was giving Ron was nothing short of the looks his mother would give the pair of them when they were up to no good. He could only imagine how Ron must be feeling right now.

"Hmmm," she said with a nod. "Sign in and be sure to use your visitor's pass. Miss Merion is down the hall in room 109." Ron did as he was told and grabbed the visitor's pass quickly. Harry heard him breathe a sigh of relief once they were at the door. "Oh, Ron, is it?"

Harry held his breath as Ron stopped dead in his tracks and turned back around. "Yes?"

The secretary smirked at him. "Best of luck to you. If you're twenty minutes late, you're going to need it," she said with a chuckle.

Surprisingly, Ron grinned back at her. "Thanks. I know."

Once they were out in the hall, Harry released his breath. "Blimey, that was too close for comfort."

"Oh stuff it. You're under an Invisibility Cloak. If anything would have gone wrong, it would have been _me_ who was in for it, not you."

"True. Didn't think about that," Harry admitted.

"You know something, you're really being a coward hiding under that thing."

"I know," Harry agreed. "But I'd like to live to see my next birthday, thanks, so I think I'll stay under here."

Ron chuckled. "Probably a wise decision."

They walked the rest of the way in silence and Harry felt an onslaught of emotion. Part of him wanted to run so badly and just apparate back to New York, but he was in London on assignment and he couldn't abandon his team. Besides, it was time he faced this. He'd been running from his past long enough.

"Are you still there?" Ron asked nervously.

Funny. It sounded like he knew exactly what Harry had been contemplating. "Yeah," Harry said. "I'm not going to run, Ron." He snorted under his breath and Harry sighed. "Ron, I'm not. I swear it. I'm going to be right here when you're ready to tell her how you found her, okay?"

The redhead nodded. "Thanks. And you have no idea how much I wish _I_ were the one under that cloak."

"Yeah, well, I'm the one that's likely going to be eaten for breakfast, thus the need for it in the first place."

Ron snorted again. "Wimp."

"Like you're not scared of her?"

"Good point. Well, this is our stop," he said once they reach 109. Harry gulped. "No turning back now. You ready?"

"No. But go ahead. Time to face the music."

Once again, Ron nervously swiped at his pants. He appeared to be trying to shake all of his nervous out, as he was doing this weird little dance that made Harry want to laugh. Surprisingly, the sight of Ron's nervousness helped calm his own butterflies. It was oddly comforting. Finally, he cleared his throat and knocked. A loud, "Come in," carried through the door.

Ron turned the doorknob and entered.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. She looked beautiful—better than he remembered. His memories didn't do her justice. She was wearing light, faded jeans and a dark maroon sweatshirt with her hair pulled back in a messy bun. There was glitter all over her clothes, but she looked as though she couldn't care less about her disheveled appearance.

Kids were running around the classroom, chasing each other with art products in their hands. Hermione was running around after them, eliciting giggles from the little ones.

"Miss Jane, my fingers are stuck together," a small boy whined.

"Niko, I told you not to play with glue gun!" she reprimanded.

She was shaking her head at the boy and went to retrieve a bowl and filled it with water.

Ron smiled appreciatively and for a moment, Harry wondered whether his friend's feelings had just been rekindled. The thought put a sour look on his face and he was even more grateful for being hidden.

"I'd listen to her, kid. She's a regular know-it-all."

Hermione dropped the bowl and placed a hand over her chest when she saw Ron. Her face paled for the briefest of seconds and then a wide grin spread across her face. She ran right at Ron and flung her arms around him. Harry couldn't help the twist of jealousy he felt at the sight.

"Ron!"

Ron let out a deep chuckle as he returned the embrace. "It's good to see you, too, Hermione. But I can't breathe."

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I just . . . what are you doing here?"

His friend gazed at her long and hard. Harry's fists clenched when Ron brushed a finger across her cheek. Harry had to force his arms to stay at their sides. "What do you think? Did you think we wouldn't look for you?"

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut but thankfully, the moment was broken when the kids started making kissing noises and teasing her. She flushed in embarrassment and turned to the assistant in the room. "Helen, could you—?"

She smiled and waved her off. "No problem, Jane. You go on," she said in broken English. She was the first person Harry had heard that sounded like she was a native Greek. And she also happened to be the first non Death Eater female Harry wanted to hex. The girl had this sickening sly look on her face and it quite honestly made Harry feel slightly ill.

Before he could even contemplate pulling out his wand, though, he saw Ron and Hermione heading out the door and quickly followed suit before the door shut on him.

They were barely through the door before Hermione started sprouting off questions. "Don't get me wrong, Ron. It's good to see you, but . . . why are you here? Why now?"

"Why not?" he countered. "Hermione, I already went through one best friend fleeing the country. You pulling the same stunt nearly killed me."

Harry swallowed back guilt. He really was a douche bag.

Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry, Ron. I just had . . . things to deal with. I had to handle it on my own."

"Like what?"

She shook her head. "No. I've dealt with and it's over. Please don't bring it up again. Not right now."

Ron scowled. "Hermione—"

"Did you get taller, Ron Weasley? Is that even possible?" she asked, frowning.

He gave her a look. "Hermione."

"Sorry," she said. "It's just you look really tall."

"I just look taller because you haven't seen me in so long," he pointed out. "I'm still the same height I was the last time you saw me, Hermione."

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "So . . ." she tilted her head to the side and peered up at Ron. "How did you find me? I thought I had all my tracks covered."

"You did. You were bloody impossible to track, Granger," he growled out. Hermione looked pleased. "In the end, though, we outsmarted you. A werewolf found you."

She looked baffled. "A werewolf? How do you know werewolves? Through Bill?"

"No. I had other help in that department."

"Oh?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "From who?"

Harry braced himself and took a deep breath. This was it. Definitely no turning back.

His heart was hammering wildly in his chest as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and took in Hermione's wide eyes. "From me," he whispered. "He had help from me."

* * *

Oh my Lord, I suck! It's nearly been two months since I've updated this and you have my sincerest apologies for the icky wait. I haven't forgotten about this, though. Things have been a little crazy around here, though, and I confess to going through a stint of writer's block for this fiction. I just got to a point where I couldn't write anymore and had to force myself to work through it. And I'm pleased to say that that pesky block is now gone, so it's back to writing! Woot! And I'd like to thank **qunizy** for giving me the kick I needed to get my rear in gear. That PM got me to bring up the document again and get back to writing.

Okay, so this chapter. I know-a bit fast-moving, what with finding Hermione so quickly and all that. But ah, the power of the Potter name. And pure impatience on the part of the author. *snickers* See-you lot aren't the only ones anxious for Hermione/Harry. I will say that I found some of the theories about Hermione amusing. They tickled me something fierce. Hehe.

I will say that my **werewolves** are a _little_ **different** than JK Rowling's. They're mostly the same, but they're a bit more ... tame? I know it doesn't exactly fit, especially with the stuff with Lupin and all that, but that is something I'm suspending, especially since werewolves don't really play a huge part in this. This is actually the last you'll see of them, so yeah. Just please bear with me on that bit. Heh.

This fiction should be rounding itself up by chapter 20 or so? Give or take. I don't remember if I mentioned that before or not, but if I have, I'm just gonna repeat that bit. Sooo, we're pretty much to the halfway point or past, depending on the exact number of chapters. I have an outline completed for this, but not a chapter-by-chapter outline.

Okay, so thank-yous. Can't forget about those! First, the shout-outs!

**jafr86, pyroseyes, _q,_ pawsrule, _quinzy_, xBloodSplatter, Aaron Leach, Wesleyangirl13, SorrisoD'amore, mwinter1, _stalker_, draoluvathatiam, A. Pikachu, carbon12.011, Eriku, eSJa, garnett-13, F5Chaos, toooldforthis, TxA-GunFighter **(3-times)**, rachelalexandra, GinnysLove, **and** xXPrettyDisturbedXx**

And now for the individual replies since, for some reason or another, I could not use the reply function.

**jafr86-** Yay! Thank you. I'm happy you liked the confrontation. And it has been a long time, yes. People are bound to change over a time span that long. This is going to be something a little more complicated to get over because he's not really angry-he's hurt. Thanks for reviewing!

**_q_-** I'm glad you liked the details were there. I'm also looking forward to Harry and Hermione seeing each other again. Hehe. Thanks!

**_quinzy_**- Ooh, hmm. Friends rather than enemies. Interesting. You'll just have to wait and see what happens ;) Thanks for reviewing!

**mwinter1-** Heh-all very good points you bring up. And while Harry would have fought it tooth and nail, he was honestly just tired. The fight was kind of just drained out of him, despite all the protesting and whining he does in the beginning. Plus, I think subconsciously, he didn't want to fight it because he wants to see his family again, even if only for a little bit. Oh, his saving-people-attitude is still very much present. It's just a little dormant at the moment. It'll be brought back, full-force, though. Thanks so much for reviewing! :D

_**stalker-**_ Intriguing that you should think Hermione's behind it. Don't forget, though, that she was tortured simply because she has muggle blood in her. Would she kill muggles? Would she kill anyone, for that matter? Nice theory, though :D and I'm glad you like it! :)

Okay. All done. Phew!

Hopefully it won't be too long before I have the next chapter finished. I didn't want to post this one until 9 was fully done because of the cliffy at the end, however, I also didn't want to leave you all hanging any longer than I already have. I'll try and be quick with this, but I can't make promises. That is one thing about my updating-it can be sporadic. I try my hardest not to do that, but it doesn't always work. I'm aiming to get chapter 9 up before May's out, though. I have a challenge that I will be working on that is sort of like NaNoWriMo, but different in the sense that you have to actually complete the novel in a two-month time span and not just meet 50k. So hopefully I'll have time to work on this since I'm outlining chapter-by-chapter for the challenge piece. I hate lags in updates. Grrr.

Anyway, seriously, thank you all so much! I really am just still so excited to see all the positive feedback for this and I truly appreciate it. I hope you all keep reading and there's still interest :p

**[Edit:]** Slight edit. Just a few names changed around in regard to the prime minister stuff! I want to thank those who pointed out Scrimegour's death to me. In all honesty, it completely slipped my mind and I'm sorry I didn't fix the mistake sooner. Blech.


	9. Chapter 9

"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 9

* * *

"Harry," she breathed out.

He stood there, motionless, unsure of what to do at this point. _Do I go to her; do I stay put? I'm not sure what the protocol here is for something like this,_ he thought restlessly. Plus it didn't help matters much that she was just standing there, staring. And staring. And staring some more.

Out of all the times he'd imagined their 'reunion,' this certainly matched none of his daydreams. He'd always pictured her running straight at him and, like some badly written muggle daytime soap, telling him that she'd made a mistake when she pushed him out of the picture.

But that would never be and he wasn't foolish enough to hang on to that hope. Too much had happened.

So many emotions were raging in him and he didn't know what to do with it all. He was elated that she was safe and unharmed; he was angry that she'd taken off in the first place, despite the hypocrisy he was well aware of in that one; he was stunned and a little bit dazed at seeing her again after all this time; he was hurt . . .

Seeing her with that far away, closed off look in her eyes made him nervous and twitchy. Hermione had always been an emotional girl and for her to be so _un_emotional right now made no sense. He couldn't believe that his sudden reappearance in her life had no effect on her at all. Honestly, anger or tears would be much preferred over this.

He glanced over at Ron, who shrugged like he didn't know what was going on either.

"Hermione?" Ron questioned her, trying to get her attention.

The redhead reached out a hand and placed it tentatively on Hermione's shoulder. She jumped slightly at the contact and seemed to snap her out of her stupefaction, thankfully.

Her brown eyes hardened just a little bit. To anyone else, the change wouldn't have been noticeable, but Harry and Ron knew her all too well, and caught it they did. Harry realized Ron recognized the change because he jumped back just a little before putting his hand back on her shoulder again. Well, at least she wasn't standing there like a statue anymore. "What?"

Ron hesitated for just a moment before asking, "Are you okay?"

She smiled, but it was clearly fake and forced. Ron seemed to pick up on it as well, but both boys refrained from saying anything. "Of course. I'm fine, just fine."

It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself more so than anyone else. Tears welled in her eyes, but none fell.

Harry was itching to touch her, just to make sure she was real and that this wasn't all a dream. But that would be a very bad idea and he was quite certain that Hermione wouldn't be receptive to the notion. He couldn't help but notice, though, that she had no problem whatsoever accepting _Ron's_ touch.

His heart constricted painfully in his chest. _It feels like five years ago all over again. Only worse_.

"Well," she breathed out. "You've certainly changed, Harry. I hardly recognize you."

It was true. While he'd always been a skinnier male, his body had developed hard muscle over the years. He'd taken up weight lifting and running to work out his frustrations. His shape was hardly large; he still had mostly the same frame—maybe his shoulders were a bit wider, but that was it. The muscle was lean and he rather liked that he wasn't some beefy guy like Jim. He had just enough of it to make him look slightly menacing and definitely capable.

He knew his face had angled out over the years. It had lost most of the boyish features he'd once possessed and he was quite certain the lack of glasses must have been a bit of shock. The only time he ever wore them now was for reading purposes.

The changes were something he was aware of. What he _wasn't_ aware of was how Hermione viewed him now. It shouldn't matter, yet it did.

"No glasses?" she commented ruefully, almost sadly.

Harry shrugged, feigning an ease he in no way felt. How could he be feeling at ease when his palms were sweaty and clammy and he wanted nothing more than to vomit any and all contents in his stomach? "They were a pain with work and all and proved to be a pretty big distraction in the end."

Ron was glancing back and forth between the two of them like he was waiting for one—or both—of them to implode. The look on his face said as much and if Harry weren't so nervous about that possibility himself, he would have laughed. This meeting was far too calm so far for his liking. There was so much that needed to be said and yet none of them were making a move to be the first to speak anything real.

"Oh," she said. "Are you still an Auror, then?"

"Yeah. My team is back in London, actually. We're heading an investigation." He paused, unsure of what to say. The fact frustrated him beyond belief, too. He missed the times where the three of them could talk for hours upon end about anything and everything. He missed the innocence. He missed the times where the atmosphere wasn't strained. He missed being able to know what to expect from both Ron and Hermione. This was all out of his league at the moment. This reunion was not what he had imagined at all. He almost would have preferred the drama he'd been expecting. In fact, he _would_ prefer it. At least anger meant that she still cared. But what if she didn't and that was the reason for the lack of response? He didn't like not knowing how to act or what to say around her. It was foreign to him and threw him completely off balance. This was just so out of character for Hermione and he didn't know what to make of it. "You look good, Hermione," he finally decided upon. It was generic, yes, but it was safe; it was also the truth.

She nodded a stiff acknowledgement at the compliment. "Thank you." Hermione then took a deep breath, smiled brightly at Ron and attempted to do so to Harry as well. Though when she tried to smile at him, her face looked like she was in physical pain. He pushed aside the all too familiar pang and forced a smile back. He appreciated the effort, if nothing else. How pathetic was that? He was still whipped, even after all these years. He was practically jumping for joy at a forced smile that looked more like a grimace. Pathetic. "Well boys, as great as it is seeing you again, I need to get back to my classroom. The kids are probably walking all over Helen."

Ron looked panicked and he frantically grabbed her arm when she headed back towards the door. Harry didn't blame him because he felt the same way. "What are you doing?" he spoke hurriedly. "We didn't come all this way just to let you slip through our fingers."

Her eyes narrowed and she looked pointedly at Ron. "I'm not slipping through anyone's fingers, okay? I just have a job that I need to get back to. You're both welcome to hang around if you'd like, but it's going to be boring for you because the day's winding down and the kids are going to be getting ready to go home."

She sighed and turned back towards the door.

Harry had no desire to leave her be now that they managed to find her. He didn't think she would pack it up and run away again—not when she had responsibilities here. When Ron had first informed him of her disappearance, Harry had checked Hermione's old work place and had spoken with her boss, who had declared that she hadn't been working there for at least a week before she'd left London. That could only mean that she'd been planning her disappearing act and hadn't left on a whim as most people suspected. Which, coincidentally, had been the entire reason he called her work in the first place. He hadn't believed for a second that she took off without putting all of her affairs in order first.

Nonetheless, the knowledge that she had taken care of all her responsibilities first helped put his mind at some ease, but the soothing effect wasn't all that grand. He didn't like the way she was acting right now and he didn't understand it. This wasn't Hermione. She had her face, her body, some of her mannerisms, but the woman who was standing in front of him might as well have been a stranger.

And a glance shared with Ron told him the both of them were on the same page.

"Let me write down the name of a café nearby that I go to. We can meet there around three o'clock. That's when I'm usually finished."

When the trio entered the room, the assistant named Helen, whom Harry had wanted to hex earlier, looked up from one of the kids' tables and glanced between the three of them. Her eyes seemed confused at the sight of a third occupant, which was understandable since he'd been under his Invisibility Cloak before. But there was something else, too. She must have been able to sense the tension that hung in the air because she promptly looked away and appeared thoroughly uncomfortable. Though that wasn't before she let out a low whistle under her breath.

Hermione walked over to a desk that sat in the corner next to a window and rummaged through a drawer to take out a piece of paper and a regular pen that muggles used.

"And you'll show up?" Ron asked warily.

Her lips thinned in a displeased manner as she wrote down the name of the café. "Yes, Ronald, I'll be there."

Harry easily recognized the irritation in her tone and it seemed Ron did, too. The only time Harry could ever recall Hermione calling Ron, "Ronald" was when she was pissed off at him or her patience was wearing thin. It was hard to tell which it was this time. "All right, then," he said finally. "We'll meet you there at three on the button."

A grunt escaped the young witch's throat. "Yeah, right. You'll be late. You're always late."

Harry smirked at the incredulous look Ron was now sporting. The young man's chin raised just the tiniest bit, but there was an undeniable happiness in his eyes. Harry could only guess that his own reflected a similar emotion. No matter what might have happened in the past, he couldn't be happier that he helped find Hermione. It was a step in the right direction to set things right and took some of the weight off his shoulders. Not all of it, but it was a start. "We'll be on time, thanks very much. Come on, Harry, let's go," he said grumpily. Ron paused on his way out, though. "And you better be there, Hermione—I'm sorry, _Jane_. We'll just find you again, so don't bother trying to back out of this."

Her eyes glinted and she folded her arms under her breasts. The action was meant to be flippant and defiant, Harry knew. But it caused her chest to push together and raise just a fraction and he felt the familiar need she used to entice out of him resurface. She'd been pretty in her own way as a teenager, a hidden jewel of sorts, and now, as an adult, that beauty was more obvious.

And to his embarrassment, she must have sensed his eyes on her because her cheeks tinged pink within seconds and she immediately let her hands fall to her sides and placed them on her hips instead. "I said I'd be there, so I'll be there."

With that, Ron nodded and headed out the door. Harry tried to move and follow him, but his feet wouldn't obey his mind. Seeing her after all these years seemed to turn his brain into a useless puddle. He couldn't look away, not after seeing her for the first time in so long. Those feelings for her didn't seem to want to turn off, no matter how hard he tried or how much he wanted to. And oh, did he want to. He was beginning to think he was masochistic for not trying harder to move on.

The only thing seeing her did was reinforce the fact that he was in love with her and he never stopped, despite the way she'd tossed him aside. Even with this freakish distance she was placing between him and Ron, he still wanted nothing more than to just gather her to him and keep her safe in his arms. He wanted to pretend the last five years never happened.

After the realization hit him like a ton of bricks, Harry began to wonder if she might possibly be his 'one' girl. Could that really be possible? Was she it for him? Hermione's gaze flickered to him and her mouth parted slightly when she apparently realized he was staring. Their eyes locked and Harry took the opportunity to study her. He needed something to help his spinning mind and trying to analyze the situation would definitely help.

The eyes that were usually so open and warm were now confused and hardened at the same time. She couldn't be as unaffected from this random drop-in as she pretended; it killed him to not know _exactly_ what she was thinking.

"I think you should go," she whispered, finally breaking the silence between them. "Ron's waiting for you."

His mouth thinned and he felt something akin to disappointment flutter through him. He supposed he should have expected nothing less, but still, the rejection and obvious dismissal stung. "You'll be there, right? At the café, I mean."

Her lips formed a sardonic smirk that sent a shiver through him. "Of course I will. Hiding is your thing, remember?" she asked coldly.

The words struck a chord with him. What right did she have to be upset about how he left? She'd practically screamed at him to leave her alone and stay out of her life. What was he supposed to do? Stay and watch the happy couple after he'd been with her and immediately rejected afterwards? Not likely. Then there was the fact that her words were more than a little hypocritical. Hadn't she left the same way he had? And she had the audacity to throw that in his face? Seemed there was a lot of hypocrisy going around.

Harry couldn't help it. The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. It was that all-too familiar anger that was surfacing. She still managed to push his buttons like nobody else. All that control he'd managed to teach himself just flew right out the window. "And apparently, running away is _yours_."

Fury lit her eyes and he fought the urge to smirk. _Well at least I finally got a _real _reaction out of her. That indignation in her eyes is the most familiar thing I've seen on her yet. _If there was one thing Hermione hated, it was being called out.

She took a deep breath and refocused her gaze on Harry. "Get out," she said through her teeth. And just like that, the conversation was dismissed because one of the little tykes came bounding up to her, tugging at her sweatshirt before Harry could even think up a reply.

_Well so much for the first meeting going well_, Harry thought miserably.

With that final, depressing thought, he walked out the door to meet Ron so they could wait for Hermione and discuss everything that just happened. Because Harry knew one thing was definite—that was _not_ the girl he remembered and he had an inkling Ron felt the same way.

The big questions that were bugging him, though, were what the hell happened? What caused the changed in her? And finally? The biggest one that was niggling at him . . . why did she leave? Hermione wasn't one to be backed into a corner, so he couldn't imagine what could have caused her to take off like a scared little rabbit.

It all left him with a funny feeling in his chest and made him more determined than ever to put things right. Hermione belonged back in England—not this little Greek island, as nice it was. And he was beginning to wonder if maybe that was where he belonged, too. Being back in London again had forced him to take a step back and look at everything from a new perspective. He'd just been so stubborn that he refused to admit that there was the strong possibility that he'd been wrong.

It was a big step, thinking about moving back, especially when he'd been so determined to stay away. The thought was overwhelming and scary.

But Neville had been right—if he wanted to right his wrongs, it was not going to be a quick and easy fix. He'd been foolish and naïve to believe otherwise. It was going to need long term work. Trust was going to need to be rebuilt. Seeing Hermione only proved that ten times over. It was clear she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him.

The thought pained him, too. But that was his fault. All of it was. Well, maybe not all of it, but a good chunk of it was. His stupidity, his need to run away and not face his problems head on had not been the right way to go about things. Not at all. And besides that, what values did that teach Teddy? That if something got too difficult, you could just run away and everything would be better? That wasn't what he wanted for Teddy. Not at all.

He'd also realized that even though the media was still all over him, that was never going to change and it was hardly a reason to keep his godson away from the people who cared about him.

The question was, though, could he go through with it and move back to the place he'd run away from? Could he uproot Teddy's life just because he was feeling a little homesick and finally being forced to question his bad decisions?

And more importantly, would they want him?

* * *

Harry and Ron were sitting in an awkward silence back at the hotel room they'd gotten. Not a word had been spoken since they'd left Hermione's school because neither one of them really knew what to say. Things hadn't gone well, to say the least. He'd half-expected her to whip out her wand at any moment and start spewing curses at him.

Of course, he hadn't predicted things to be much different. In fact, he'd expected things to be _worse_ truthfully because really, it would be nothing less than what he deserved. Hermione had every right to be pissed off at him. Just like he had every right to be angry with her.

And in a way, he was.

Seeing her again had brought about a whole mixture of emotions in him. Of course, he'd remembered all the reasons why he loved her; those had certainly come barreling back at him. Mostly, though, he felt relief that she was alive and healthy, maybe even happy. She'd certainly looked content when she'd been chasing all those little rugrats around the classroom.

Then there'd been some regret. He'd thought about all the things he could have done differently, how he maybe could have tried just a little bit harder and put up more of a fight than what he did. The 'what-if' game still threatened to drive him mad most days, which was what had driven him to question his determination to stay in the States. That was going to need a deeper thought process than what he'd given it so far. He made a mental note to owl Kate.

And finally, the anger swelled in him, the resentment. How was it fair that she could be so happy and content with her 'new' life she'd created for herself when he'd just barely been scraping by with his own? It just didn't seem right to him. He couldn't help but question if his departure had affected her as much as everyone said it did. Based on first appearances, she'd seemed just fine before he stepped out from underneath the Invisibility Cloak.

But still, even with all the tumultuous emotions warring in him, _because _of them even, the meeting unsettled him. There was more to this than most thought, of that much he was certain and that was enough for him to put aside his feelings towards the situation for the moment. If he could just corner Rita Skeeter and maybe slip some Veritiserum into her food or a drink . . . unfortunately, the woman wasn't that stupid. She'd be on her guard for sure, especially since she likely knew that his questioning would undoubtedly concern someone she loathed.

He was ninety-nine point nine percent certain that Skeeter was the "reporter" she'd encountered. What could she have said, though, that would have rattled Hermione enough to cause her to feel the need to leave? That's what was bugging him. Surely the woman couldn't have any blackmail. What material could there have been—Hermione didn't file her paperwork on time? Even that was stretching. She was nothing, if not prompt with assignments and tasks. Besides, something petty like that would have only caused her to laugh in the woman's face. Not run away.

As he was sifting through all his rampaging thoughts, Ron was the first to break the silence.

"Well . . . at least she didn't hex you." Harry tossed him a dry look and the other boy flushed beat red. "Sorry."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No, you're right. I'm surprised she didn't try. Just look at what she did with the bird attack on you back in our sixth year."

Ron grimaced at the memory. "Thanks, mate. Thanks for bringing that one up."

"Sorry." There was a pause and Harry was the first to speak again. "So what do you reckon is wrong with her? I mean something was definitely off."

The other boy rolled his eyes and sank back into the chair. "That's a stupid question if you ask me. We caught her off guard, simple as that. If it had been just me, things might have been different. But you being there is what really threw her for a loop. I suspect she'd gotten used to the idea that she was never going to see you again."

Harry ignored the twinge of regret that tugged at him. He could accept that explanation because he supposed it was true, after all. But still, he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it. "But what if that's not everything? I mean didn't you get the feeling that it was more than just seeing me that had her acting so strange?"

Ron smirked a little and shook his head. "What makes you so sure she was acting strange, Harry? You weren't around for the four years she was still in England. I'm telling you, I know that to _you_ her behavior seems odd, but her being closed off is nothing new for me. To be perfectly honest, I was expecting worse."

Worse? How could anything have been worse than that? The possibility made him feel slightly ill and his stomach churned a little. If what Ron was saying was entirely true, he had no _hopes_ of fixing things between him and Hermione. He needed something to go on, something to go in his favor.

"But Ron—"

"You need to give her some time, okay? She's not just going to magically forgive you, you know. I doubt you could manage that even with the Imperius Curse."

Okay, so apparently the 'things going in his favor' thing wasn't to be. Imagining Ron's statement about the Imperius Curse to be true wasn't all that difficult. That girl could be ridiculously stubborn when she wanted to be and while most of the time it was an admirable quality, it downright sucked to be the person she turned that trait onto.

However, even with all that conviction Ron was demonstrating, Harry couldn't help but feel something was still off.

And he was going to find out what it was.

Ron, once again, interrupted his thoughts. "So what were you thinking about on the way back from the school? You looked troubled."

Harry shrugged, but wondered if he should tell the truth. Then he remembered that lies were what started the whole mess in the first place. If he was going to fix things, it was time to start being honest. "Truthfully?"

"That'd be nice."

"I was thinking about making the move and bringing Teddy back to England."

An intense silence passed before Ron spoke up again. "Regardless of if we can sway Hermione to come back? You're serious?"

"Regardless," he confirmed. "I know you don't have much reason to believe me, Ron, but I want to set things right. I know what I did was wrong and selfish and that I shouldn't have passed the responsibility of telling people I was leaving off to you. I should have manned up and done it myself."

"Yeah," he agreed. "You should have." There was another pause before he heard Ron's sharp intake of breath. "Look, I think it's time we discussed that other issue, then, since you seem to be giving a move back serious consideration. I want to know, Harry. Did you sleep with her?"

He didn't hesitate this time. It was time to lay everything out on the table. He could only hope it didn't completely destroy any chance of putting their friendship back on track. "Yes, I did. Once."

Ron's jaw clenched and his face turned three shades of red. But to his credit, he didn't fly off the handle. Harry was genuinely amazed about the fact, too. He couldn't remember Ron being in this much control of his temper before. "Do you regret it?"

If he was all about the honesty, he might as well go all the way. No going back now. "No. I regret what we did behind your back. I regret how it happened. But I don't regret being with her. I can't."

The other boy nodded and gave a rough swallow. He wiped a hand over his face. "You love her, don't you?"

"Yes. I do. I wouldn't have done that if I didn't, Ron. You have to know that."

The other boy's anger increased. "If you love her, then why in blazes did you run?"

"I didn't think I had a choice at the time! She didn't want me, okay? She pushed me out of the picture almost right after it happened and it about killed me. The woman I was absolutely crazy about had basically told me to take a hike and I didn't think I had any other options! You have no idea how awful it was. I'd put everything—_everything_— on line to be with her and she threw it back in my face! I risked our friendship to be with her. I would have done anything for her and it didn't seem to matter."

Harry swallowed, feeling shaken. How strange was it that for so long, he'd denied those words to himself, yet he just blurted them all out to Ron? He hadn't realized how truly angry he'd been over it, either.

Ron shook his head. "You're a bloody idiot if you really believed any of that. Do you _really_ think that Hermione would have just been with you on some whim? Whatever she told you, you had to know she was lying!"

Harry doubted that. He could only remember that morning all too well. If she'd been lying, she was in the wrong career path. "You weren't there, Ron."

"Except I was there. That's what you seem to be forgetting. I was there every time she slammed her walls up around me, I was there every time she pushed me away because I wasn't you. I was there. You weren't."

"Ron, I—"

"You're going to need to give me some time to process this, okay? I get that it happened years ago, but still. Doesn't make it any less of a betrayal." He took a deep breath and wiped his hands on his jeans. "I don't exactly hate you, Harry. On the contrary, I'm glad you were finally truthful with me. But it's still a blow for me. I know that I'm the one who wanted to know, but I can't talk about this anymore right now. It's too much."

"I understand," he said quietly. He inhaled a shaky breath and turned to Ron. "Is there . . . will we be okay? Is there any kind of hope for us, Ron? Do you think we can come back from this?"

"I don't know. Maybe . . . maybe if there are no more lies. Full disclosure and all that. And maybe if you're serious about sticking around. I don't think Mum could handle you taking off again."

His words provoked hope. It wasn't a flat-out 'no' and Harry couldn't be happier about that fact, either. He shot Ron a tentative smile and received a nod in return, like a mutual understanding had just passed between them. Admittedly, the idea of moving back was daunting. But going on this mission to get Hermione back had made Harry realized just how much he'd missed Ron. He'd had no idea before this and it reminded him of all the trouble they used to get into together.

They'd been through so much and Harry wanted to believe that they could bounce back from this, too.

More time passed with neither man speaking and finally, Harry looked at the clock. His eyes widened when he saw that it was already after three and he grabbed Ron. "We're late!"

* * *

"You're late," Hermione pointed out.

She was quietly drinking a butterbeer and reading a muggle newspaper as she spoke. Not once did she look up to see the two panting boys. Harry and Ron had both run from the apparation point and while Harry was in decent shape due to his daily jogs, they'd run like a group of Death Eaters was tailing them.

Ron especially looked worse for the wear and was trying desperately to catch his breath. He was hunched over at the waist, his hands clutching his knees and Harry watched in amusement as sweat dripped down the sides of his face. He felt like a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he was in an exceptional mood.

The redhead groaned. "Bloody hell, I'm so out of shape. I miss Quidditch," he said between breaths. He then turned to Harry and glared. "How is it that _you're_ not sweating like a pig?"

Harry smiled and shoved his jeans in his pockets. "I run every morning. I need to stay in shape so I can catch the bad guys."

Ron rolled his eyes and plopped down in the nearest chair. Hermione had finally folded her newspaper and tucked it away. She grinned at Ron and Harry cursed his heart for skipping just a beat at the sight. _You're sick, man. You're masochistic. That's all there is to it. See that grin that you're tripping all over yourself for? It's not for you; it's never for you. It's for _him_. It's always been for Ron. What's it going to take for you to understand that?_

Still, though, he forced himself not to be brought down. Things seemed to be going in a positive direction with Ron and he wouldn't jeopardize the tentative, extremely rocky foundation they had built over something that would never be. Ron may believe that Hermione had been lying when she'd said she didn't want him, but Harry wasn't as convinced.

"I haven't seen you this out of shape since you were running from that one fan of yours," Hermione said, still grinning.

The youngest male Weasley's cheeks colored and a grimace distorted his face. "Don't remind me."

"Fan?" Harry questioned, unable to stop himself. He was brimming with curiosity, especially since Ron looked so uncomfortable.

Hermione snickered and took a drink of her butterbeer. It was then that Harry noticed there were two more already sitting there. His throat tightened at the gesture as he sat down and he forced himself to get it together and stop being such a ninny. He'd never make it through this reunion with Hermione and Ron if he didn't.

"Ron's just so handsome that even the men couldn't control themselves around him," she provided and looked ready to burst into laughter.

Ron flushed even more and he scowled at Hermione. "Thanks."

When it was clear that Hermione wasn't exaggerating, Harry roared with surprising laughter. "Wait, wait, wait," he wheezed out. "You mean to tell me that the fan who chased Ron was a _guy_?"

The young witch was still smirking and nodded. "Strapping young man, too." She released a longing sigh and batted her eyelashes playfully. "He just thought Ron was so dreamy."

"Oh, shut up," Ron snapped out.

Harry smiled after he came down from his laughing fit. Never in a million years did he think that his first encounters with Ron and Hermione would be like this. This just seemed far too simple and smooth. The teasing and friendly bantering going on felt like they were slipping into their old friendships.

But Harry wasn't fooled.

He knew this was too easy and that their issues were being swept under the rug, ignored. Even though Ron and he had briefly discussed Hermione, there was still too much baggage to be ignored. The three of them were pretending and while it may not have been real, it was still nice. It was nice to pretend, even if it would only be for a few minutes.

Sitting there at the café table with his two mates, he suddenly longed for the simplicity of his school days. While most school years found Harry in some life-threatening situation, his friendships, at least, had been moderately easy for the most part. Innocent. Uncomplicated. Now, it was none of those things. Now, it was the polar opposite. And it was all because they'd had to grow up. They'd had to notice the opposite sex. They'd had to start worrying about things other than homework and the house cup.

Harry sighed and looked up, only to find Hermione staring intently at him. The sight unnerved him. While he had no idea what she was thinking, it felt like she could see right through him and read his thoughts just as easily as she ever could.

Just then, a server came over to the table, interrupting whatever bizarre moment that had just transpired, and Harry instantly felt uneasy. He was a good-looking guy and one that Hermione would have to be blind not to notice. Ron appeared to have noticed this as well, as his sneer was not concealed in the slightest.

Harry simply wanted the bloke to go away. Merlin, no wonder Hermione came here all the time. Mystery solved.

The too-good-looking waiter asked the three of them if they needed anything and Ron and Harry simply stared at him with glares on their faces. If Harry wouldn't have been so preoccupied with his seething, pointless jealousy, he might have noticed that the young man wasn't exactly paying the utmost attention to his one-time lover. In fact, he was openly glaring right back at Harry and Ron.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at them, but politely declined anything else. "Thank you, Alec. We'll just have the drinks."

_Alec?_ _She knows him well enough to call him by his first name? How often did she say she came here again?_

_Alec_ smiled brilliantly at her, his frown disappearing, and flashed a set of perfectly white teeth. Harry scowled deeper, as did Ron. It figured boy wonder would have a straight set of blinding white pearls to match the rest of him. "Of course, Hermione—Jane," he quickly corrected. His cheeks flushed and he stared apologetically and wide-eyed at Hermione.

"It's all right. They know who I am."

Ron and Harry exchanged questioning glances with each other. So this bloke knew who she was? What in the world was going on?

He nodded, clearly relieved that he hadn't just blown Hermione's cover. She smiled at him again and Harry had an urge to punch him—just so he could maybe knock a tooth out. He was giving it serious thought as he watched Alec walk away; Ron seemed to have the same idea because from the corner of his eye, Harry saw him discreetly get his wand out and roll an object out in Alec's path.

It worked brilliantly.

He didn't see whatever the object was in time and, accordingly, tripped over it. In the process, he crashed into another waiter, who, unfortunately was mostly empty-handed. They did get a spilled drink on Alec out of the little bit of magic, though, so it wasn't a total loss.

Ron was holding back his laughter and Harry was trying not to as well. However, any desire to laugh shriveled up at the look on Hermione's face. "I swear, it's like you're fourteen years old again, Ronald. That was completely uncalled for!"

The boy winced at the use of his full name. That was twice in one day, now. "But—"

"No! Alec did nothing to you to deserve that."

"Oh, Alec, is it?" Ron asked, his face reddening. "And just what is going on with you and this _Alec_ character? How is it that he knew who you were?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and let out a huff. "Maybe because I told him the truth! Alec happens to be my friend, thank you."

The other man snorted derisively. "Friend. _Right_. He just wants to be your friend."

Harry's eyes narrowed when Hermione started giggling. "Actually, he does."

"Oh, don't be so naïve, Hermione. Guys like him—"

"Pursue other guys. Alec is gay, Ron. So seeing as he prefers men, he really _does _just want to be my friend. Not that it would be any of your business if that weren't the case, but it looked like you were going to pop a vein any second."

Harry and Ron sat there, stunned. Well, that was an interesting turn of events. He never would have guessed him to be gay. Ron sputtered. "He's . . . he's . . . you. He's _gay_?"

She snickered into her glass and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Ron. I think Harry's more his type than you."

Ron hooted with laughter and Harry honestly found the situation amusing. He grinned at Hermione and shrugged. It wouldn't have been the first time a guy had hit on him. When he'd first gotten to New York and started going to some of the different bars and nightclubs, he'd been uncomfortable with the open invitations men sent him. Then he, more or less, got used to it since it started happening more often than he would have liked it to.

"Oh, too bad for him," Harry said, grinning. He batted his eyelashes at Ron and grabbed his chin. "I only have eyes for this handsome devil right here. He is the light of my life. And he's just so irresistible that I want to lock him up and throw away the key."

Ron's face blanched and Hermione doubled over with laughter. Hands started swatting him away and Ron kicked his chair away from Harry. "You are disturbed. Don't do that."

Harry chuckled and took a drink. "Oh, lighten up, Ron. You know how much I like women." _Aka, you know I love Hermione. _"Besides, even if I _were_ gay, you wouldn't be my type. Sorry."

He scowled and, much to Harry's amusement, looked offended at the remark. "Hey, you dated my sister! And—oh bloody hell. I hate you both," he broke off at the giggling from Hermione and silent laughter from Harry. Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, as much as I'm enjoying the non-arguing and the pretending going on here . . . we all know this can't last forever. We have to talk."

Hermione shifted in her seat was now looking anywhere but at Harry or Ron. "I don't see what there is to talk about, Ron," she said quietly. "We're all living our own separate lives, now, right? Why rehash the past?"

"Are you kidding?" Ron shouted. "There's plenty to talk about, one topic being why you suddenly took off! It makes no sense!"

Her brown eyes glittered and she crossed her arms. "Oh, and it's me we're asking that question to? What about him?" she asked, giving Harry a pointed look.

He flushed and felt something akin to panic. This meeting wasn't supposed be about him. It was supposed to focus on Hermione. Now the tricky little minx was turning the tables on him. Hell, he wasn't prepared for this. Not at all. It was one thing for Ron to know why he took off. It was another thing entirely for the beans to be spilled to Hermione.

"I had my reasons for leaving," he said shortly.

"Oh, that clears _so _much up. Fine, then. I had my reasons for leaving, too."

"Damn it all, you two," Ron shouted. "Stop being so bloody pigheaded and grow up! We're not kids anymore, all right? We should be able to have an adult conversation. _I'm _supposed to be the childish one here, remember? Not you two."

Hermione leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table so she could rest her head in her hands. "Ron, I'm sorry. I really am. But I don't know what I'm supposed to say, here. I left because of . . . personal reasons, something I can't discuss with either one of you."

Ron's eyes flashed with hurt. "But it's us," he whispered. "We used to tell each other everything. What's so bad that you can't—?"

"Because I can't!" she snapped. "And furthermore, it was a personal matter, as I already pointed out."

Harry shifted in his seat and allowed himself to study Hermione. He'd refused to face her for five years now, so the notion made him more than a little uncomfortable, but it was his job to sniff out liars, with or without Veritiserum. And he'd once known Hermione Granger like the back of his hand and he'd wager anything that he still did, despite the changes he'd been slapped with.

He noticed that she refused to look at Ron as she was yelling. Her eyes were pointed in his direction, but they were staring at his forehead. There was one clear sign. Hermione especially could always maintain eye contact if she was telling the truth.

His attention then fluttered down to her neck, to that sweet, sensitive—

_Whoa. Back up there, buddy. Professionalism. Remember that? Think of this as your job and nothing more. You were supposed to be looking at the little spot on her neck that would be jumping about if she were lying, not imagining that you were kissing that spot._

It was hard, though, because Hermione was so much more than a job to him. But he would do it. He had to, or he would lose what little he had left of his sanity.

He'd just shifted himself back into focus when he noticed that she chose that particular moment to look over at him. And he wanted to sink into the ground.

He'd been caught staring at her neck.

Bloody hell, this was embarrassing. He could feel the skin on his own neck flush crimson and he cursed obscenities at himself. Merlin, this woman turned him into a bloody fool. He shook off being caught off guard and gave her a level stare; he refused to let himself show anymore of his embarrassment than he already had. He silently dared her to call him out on what he'd been doing and her face turned thirty shades of pink. She promptly looked away, though not before glaring at him.

Harry couldn't stop the satisfied smirk that was forming. Well, at least he could still manage to get under her skin properly. That was something. That was twice now that he'd managed to provoke her.

Now if only he could get her alone and get her riled enough to spill the truth about why she'd left. Hermione was not one to be pushed into a corner and she never _ever_ ran away from her problems. So why had she run this time? It made no sense to Harry. It didn't match the girl he once knew.

"Hermione," Ron said, interrupting his thoughts. "We want to help you. Did you think that you wouldn't be missed if you ran away and went into hiding? You had friends back there who would have done anything for you, you had a good job, a home . . . I just can't understand why you would give that all up."

"Please stop," she said quietly. "I don't want to talk about it."

But Ron kept pushing, so unlike the best friend he'd once known. "Did something . . . did someone . . .?"

The young witches eyes widened, as did Harry's. The thought of someone touching Hermione like Ron was currently suggesting sent his blood pumping, raging. Thankfully, though, she cleared that question up quickly.

"No!" she blurted out. She squirmed in her seat, looking like she'd rather be anywhere but there. "Goodness, no. Nothing like that."

Ron let out a sigh of relief and nodded. "Good. That's good. Otherwise, I'd have probably gotten chucked into Azkaban for murder."

"You'd have had a cellmate, too," Harry interjected, still bothered with the idea. Just remembering the fact that she'd been tortured during the war was enough to make him angry. .

Hermione's eyes snapped over to him. "I don't need you jumping up to defend my honor. I can take care of myself. In case you've forgotten, you've been absent in my life for the last five years, so I don't need it, nor do I want it."

Ouch. She couldn't have hurt him more if she'd slapped him. "Hermione—"

"Why are you really here, Harry? Ron makes sense. But you? I'm still drawing a blank for that one."

Harry fixed her with a hard stare of his own. "If you need to ask that, then maybe you aren't the brightest witch of your age. Excuse me," he muttered under his breath and stood up from his seat. "I need to go to the bathroom."

He turned on his heel and made his way for the inside of the restaurant so he could have a moment's time to himself. He'd all but put up a giant sign that said, "I'm here because I love you, you dolt!" Surely Hermione wasn't _that _dense, was she? She had to know how he felt about her. How he _still_ felt about her.

He stepped into the bathroom and splashed his face with some cold water.

Harry didn't know how Ron was going to convince Hermione to go back home. That seemed like an impossibility at the moment, especially with him here. Perhaps if he'd told Ron to take care of it and stayed away, Hermione would be easier to sway. But she had this impenetrable wall surrounding her and, though it seemed egotistical, Harry could only guess that he was a large part of the reason for the elephant in the room.

It seemed like kidnapping was their only option at this point.

And even though the woman managed to drive him barking mad and push his buttons like no other, he wasn't exactly against the idea.

* * *

Okey dokey.

A few things to address.

So I know many of you are probably scratching your heads, wondering what the hell is up with all that, right? Lol. I realize everything seems far to hunky dory for them, but don't worry. The blows will happen. Ron's especially not pleased with Harry and he's holding back an extreme amount of anger at the moment. This has always been my plan, though, since I first started writing this thing out. I just hope that it wasn't disappointing. I'm actually kind of happy with how it turned out, so I hope nobody thinks that I'm just ignoring everything. Oh dear. Now I'm nervous. Lol.

Also, Harry's not exactly sold on the idea of moving back to England. He's toying with it and mulling over it and while Hermione may have been a big reason for the sudden change of thinking, she's not the sole deciding factor.

A preview for you all since you're awesome - expect a Weasley reunion within a couple chapters. Should be happening by chapter 11 hopefully.

And finally, I will be postponing work on this until the beginning of August, or until I have my original novel mostly completed by the deadline. I'm participating in a challenge that is similar to NaNoWriMo, but it's different in the sense that you have to complete it in two months instead of just reaching 50K in one. I have a chapter-by-chapter outline, so I should be able to get a good writing groove with it. Once that's finished, or close to it, I'll resume my attention on this. I just wanted to give you a head's up that this will be going on a little mini-hiatus. But it will be back!

Alrighty, I think that covers the boring author's note stuff. Now onto the most important thing-the thank yous! Seriously, it means a lot that you all are sticking with this story and giving me encouraging feedback. You all rock!

**quinzy, pawsrule, jkarr, jaley **(2 times)**, dracoluvathatiam, dennisud, Mask with a truth, Aaron Leach, carbon12.011, SorrisoD'amore, F5Chaos, singtothedarksideofthemoon, major wallace, akhosimadhatter, eSJa, toooldforthis, Xelan, rachelalexandra, **and** ooSuperBatGirloo**

I think that about covers it! I'm off to go work on the novel now. Hope to be back by early August! :D


	10. Chapter 10

"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 10

* * *

The rest of the day went about as well as the first half had gone, which wasn't very well to be quite honest. He'd forgotten how incredibly stubborn Hermione could be.

Harry gathered the only positive thing that could be gained from this meeting was that he'd discovered that Ron's feelings for Hermione remained platonic. Any feelings he may have had for the young witch remained in the past and that was an enormous relief.

Ron, however, seemed to be feeling anything but relief. In fact, he looked downright irritated.

"I swear, that woman drives me so barking mad. Has she always been so . . . so . . . pigheaded?"

A burst of laughter escaped Harry and he clutched at his stomach for breath. "And you're a patron saint, Ron? You're just as bad as she is! Maybe worse, what with your temper and all?"

The redhead ignored the comment. "I have been spending the last hour trying to convince her to come back home. And she's _still_ not budging!"

"You didn't really expect this to be an easy task, did you? She seems to have a life here now, Ron," Harry said quietly.

The admission was a hard one. But it was also fact—and one that he couldn't fault Hermione for. After all, he'd built a life for himself back in New York. In the beginning, he hadn't thought it would be possible, but it had been. Finding a friend in Kate had changed everything. And Hermione seemed quite content with her new life. She loved working with those kids, that much was evident. Her face had been lit up like a Christmas tree while she was chasing them around the room. Plus she had Alec. If Alec was anything to Hermione like Kate was to him, their attempt to get her back home would be that much more difficult.

Ron sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "It would all be so much easier if we could just figure out why it is she left in the first place. If we could discover the root of the problem, we might be able to convince her to come back." He paused and looked warily at Harry. "You don't think it had anything to do with . . . well, you, do you?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What on earth are you talking about?"

The redhead shifted uncomfortably and his face took on a hardened expression. "Well, I mean . . . I mean you two . . ."

Realization dawned on Harry and he immediately understood Ron's discomfort. "Oh. No," he said truthfully after he thought about it. It was something he'd considered once already and he'd dismissed the theory. "If she left because of what happened, why'd she wait so long to do it? Four years is a bit of a delayed reaction, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but then Hermione's never really done anything normally, has she?"

He thought about it and chuckled at the truth of it. "You have a point. Nonetheless, I can't see her taking off because of what happened with us," he said cautiously. That subject was still sensitive and he didn't know how to approach the topic without setting Ron off. While he was glad that no punches had been thrown at the discovery, he almost would have preferred it. At least then he would have known where he stood. This walking on eggshells stuff was driving him mad. But it didn't seem right to be the one to bring up that particular line of conversation. If Ron was happy ignoring it, he supposed he could be, too. Or at least pretend to be. For now. He would bring it up later when they weren't trying to work together to get Hermione back home. Then they could hash it out like they should be doing.

"Well, I don't know what else to try. I've thrown everything at her that I could think of. I guess it's your turn," Ron shrugged.

Harry paled. Ron was leaving it up to _him_ to get Hermione to go back to England? Was he mental? "Uh, I don't think that's a good idea."

"She'll listen to you."

He shot Ron an incredulous look. That was laughable. Hermione had never listened to anyone, let alone to him. Granted, all their days back in Hogwarts, that was probably for the best, but still. Ron had definitely overlooked a few things. "You really _are_ mental, Ron. She's not going to listen to me. She hates me!"

"She'll listen to you," he repeated. "And she doesn't hate you. She's angry and confused and hurt, but she doesn't hate you. I don't think she knows how to hate you."

"Oh, that's debatable."

Ron sighed and leaned his head back against his chair. "Look, we did all this work, came all this way so we could find her. Now that we have, you're just going to let it go? You're going to give up?"

Harry shook his head. Ron made it sound so simple, like Harry could simply snap his fingers and Hermione would gladly agree to go back with them. "It's not as easy as you're making it out to be, Ron. We're all different now. There are things we don't know about each other, things—"

"That's bullshit. Maybe on the surface we're different, but underneath, we haven't changed. You still know her, Harry. You can make her come home."

Before Harry had the chance to argue, Ron was up and out of his seat and heading toward the bathroom. Terrific.

He couldn't even begin to work up a reasonable argument for her to go back to England with them. Like Ron had mentioned, maybe if he knew what the cause of the running was in the first place, he could have another leg to stand on, but he felt like he was up the creek without a paddle.

The idea that she had left because of their night together had crossed his mind, but it seemed impossible for that to be the reason, not to mention remarkably egotistical. Since he'd been told of her disappearance, his brain had been concocting all sorts of theories about why she left and had come up with nothing. It just didn't seem like the Hermione they were all familiar with. She never ran from anything.

So why did she run this time?

Unless . . . unless she ran because she didn't have a say in the matter and thought there was no other way around it.

Ideas began swirling around in his mind. This was an angle he hadn't considered before. What if she'd run to protect someone? But who? And why? And why wouldn't she have gone to anyone for help?

"I'm going to Hermione's!" he shouted across the room "I think I've got something."

He didn't stay to hear Ron's reply. He disapparated out of the hotel room and quickly made his way to Hermione's place. Costas had been predictably thorough in his tailing and discovered her living arrangements in addition to her work place. Harry thanked his lucky stars he'd met Costas in New York those few years ago.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione had chosen a modest, homey cottage type house in a muggle neighborhood. It appeared to be a sleepy street, free of crime and worry. The lawns were superbly kept (what little there was of them, anyway), clothes were hung out to dry. It all looked it should be the picture for a postcard, especially with the way the sun was setting in the background.

He smiled a little bit and wrapped his knuckles gently against her front door. It would be hard work to get her out of this place, but he was suddenly feeling quite up to the challenge.

A moment passed with no answer, so he knocked again and this time, the door crept open.

"Back so soon to try again, Ron—?"

She cut herself off when she saw she completely got the wrong wizard. Harry shrugged and offered her an apologetic smile. "Sorry to disappoint you. Not Ron."

"I'm busy," she said curtly. "Go away."

Hermione moved to close the door, but Harry's fingers curled around the barrier, stopping it from shutting. She attempted to shove the door in his face and his lips curled in amusement at the effort. He could have sworn he even heard her grunt from behind the door and he was beginning to wonder why she hadn't pulled out her wand yet.

"You have three seconds to move away from this door before I blast you to the ground myself."

Ah. There it was.

"Hermione, don't. I just want to talk to you."

"Well that's nice, but I _don't_ want to talk to you. You've been ignoring everyone's existence for the last five years, so I don't see why now is any different. Go back to wherever it is you came from."

As much as he didn't want to do it, he saw no other way around it. There was no other way to get her to listen to him, otherwise. She was being stubborn as ever and he needed to talk to her.

"All right, first, I'm going to ignore how incredibly hypocritical that was. Second, I didn't want to do have to do this so quickly, but seeing as you've left me no choice, I really don't see a way around it."

"What are you talking about?"

Her interest was definitely peaked, so that was a plus. Though to be perfectly honest, he'd known she would be interested. Curiosity was human nature and even more so in Hermione's. She couldn't resist learning about the unknown. "Oh, just that I have a hunch about why you left England." Through the crack of the door, he saw her pale just the tiniest bit and he felt the pressure on the door ease up. "And, I know they weren't always the greatest things back in our schooldays, but my hunches have improved immensely since becoming an Auror. They're almost never wrong," he whispered.

The door opened.

Harry fought back a grin when she stepped off to the side. "Come in," she said through her teeth. "And stop looking so smug. I swear I've forgotten how annoying you can be."

The grin escaped him and he waited for her to guide him to a place where they could sit and talk. But she wasn't moving anywhere. She was just staring and staring. And staring some more. He was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable at the scrutiny. "What?"

"I just . . . you look different," she said quietly. She cleared her throat and started walking further into the cottage. "Let's move to the sitting room."

She moved quickly and gave him little time to take in his surroundings, which, he suspected was done on purpose. Still, with his line of work, he had to be able to observe things in the blink of an eye. If he happened to get bested and got disarmed and kidnapped, he couldn't say, "Excuse me, but could you slow down so I can get a better idea of where I am? That would be great—thanks!" No, he was used to fast-paced movement, so he was happy he could quickly take in his surroundings. And from what he could see, she kept most of her belongings from her old place in England, so there wasn't much new to observe. From the front door, there was a narrow hallway equipped with a shelf along the top of the wall, which she used for all of her pictures. An unfamiliar cat was curled up in the corner of the shelf, sleeping. He wondered if Crookshanks was still around.

He decided he'd take a chance and ask. "Do you still have Crookshanks?"

Halfway down the path, it veered off to the right with an archway and that was the kitchen. Once they got down to the end of the hall, there was a narrow set of stairs to the left and an entrance to what he supposed was a living room.

Her reply was stiff. "He's out in the yard. He likes chasing the gnomes. This way."

Hermione led him through the left entrance and gestured for him to sit on a large white armchair. She sat down on the matching couch, positioned in front of a fireplace. "This is really nice, Hermione."

"I like it just fine. It was hard to find, though, but I knew the woman who was renting it out." Then she laughed and shook her head, though it was quite humorless. "Why am I telling you this? I can chalk it up to habit, I guess."

"Hermione—"

"You said you think you know why I came here. Care to fill me in on your sudden enlightenment?"

"Hermione," he started again. He was about to tell her that he wanted to talk about what happened, about why he left, but the look on her face warded him away from that line of conversation. Before he would have no problems pushing her to talk things over, but things were different. He didn't know the boundary lines that now existed between them and he didn't want to push his luck. So he stuck with 'enlightening' her. Well, for now he would stick to enlightening her. Eventually, he would get her to talk to him properly. He would. He shook his head and let out a resigned sigh. "Ron said you spoke with a reporter about a month before you left, but we haven't been able to figure out who it was. I have a hunch."

"Of course you do," she muttered under her breath. "But what does the reporter have to do with anything?"

Harry smiled when she asked the question. Her eyes shifted away from him and that was sign number one that she was lying. She'd never been able to hold eye contact with him when she lied. "Oh, I think that reporter has everything to do with this. And you want to know what else I think?"

"Not really."

"I think that reporter was Rita Skeeter and I think she had something on you. Blackmail of some kind." The surprise couldn't have been clearer on her face. She didn't even bother trying to hide it, which let him know he was right on target. So his hunch _had _been right. The question was, what could that pesky woman have possibly had on Hermione? "Here's the thing that confuses me, though. You wouldn't run on plain old blackmail. That's not you."

"Who says there's blackmail involved?"

"You did," he offered, "when you didn't make some derisive snort at the theory. If I'd been wrong, you would have told me so." At her silence, he continued on. "Like I said, you wouldn't run on blackmail. You'd fight back. You're not one to be backed into a corner. So my guess is that you're protecting someone. I just can't put my finger on whom because I don't know the circumstances of the dirt she's got on you, if it is in fact, Rita Skeeter. Am I wrong on that?"

She tilted her head to the side and frowned, then released a long sigh. "No. That infuriating woman one-upped me."

"What did she have on you?" he asked quietly.

He watched her serious expression and waited patiently. He could practically see the wheels in her head spinning, debating the pros and cons of opening up to him and telling him the truth. More than anything, he wanted her to tell him what was going on, to be able to come to him again. But maybe that was hoping for the impossible. Neither one of them had dealt with what happened between them properly—she'd decided it was best to pretend it had never happened and he'd run away. Clearly they were experts at communication.

Harry held in a snort at the thought. Communication experts. Right. Well, no matter the exact cause of the current circumstances, both of them were at fault for the awkwardness in the room that had never existed before. He missed how easy things used to be between them.

He missed _her_.

Harry bit back a frustrated groan. This whole situation blew and he hated how she was right in front of hm, but he couldn't even do anything about it.

He was beginning to believe that she would keep him in the dark about everything because she spent so much time debating things in her head. He could actually see her listing the pros and cons in her head. However, his worry that she wouldn't say anything was evidently unwarranted. Because even though when she started to speak, she was cautious, still hesitant, he could see the decision in her eyes—she was going to tell him. "Well, I suppose that since it involves you, you have the right to know."

His eyes narrowed and he felt his entire body tense. That didn't sound good at all. "What are you talking about?"

"Apparently we had a little bit of an audience during our little tryst." Tryst. He tried to ignore the pang his chest felt at the careless word and keep focus. But it wasn't easy. That moment, however short-lived it had been, had been beautiful. At least for him it had been. And hearing her use that word to describe it hurt more than he thought it would. He pushed the tug of pain down and ignored it, otherwise he definitely wouldn't be paying much attention. "She had irrefutable proof that we were together and threatened to use it against us. And you know she would have."

Oh yes. Rita Skeeter would have loved the chance to trump Hermione after she'd been humiliated by a meager fourth year student at Hogwarts. Hermione's blackmail had wounded Skeeter's ego immensely, not to mention in her mind it had degraded her. Having been forced to write for _The Quibbler_, the little credibility she'd possessed had taken a huge hit. So, yes. Harry knew just as well as Hermione that Rita would have used any material on the pair of them to her advantage.

"You're right," he said wearily. "She would have used it in a heartbeat. How did she get it, though?"

Hermione shrugged. "Beats me. She still hasn't told me and I haven't been able to figure out how she did it. It's maddening that she's been able to get one over on me, but I saw the proof with my own eyes, Harry. It was there and it was very real. And when I first discovered the proof, I investigated every possible angle as to how she got it—even her using her animagus knowledge. I've come up with nothing. It's highly disturbing knowing she was obsessed enough to resort to watching two people have sex."

Disturbing, indeed. Memories burned in his brain, images flashed, unrelenting. He still remembered everything about that night and the fact that someone else was there to witness the best and worst night of his life made him beyond angry. But this wasn't about him—it was about helping Hermione and he had to remember that. He couldn't lose his focus. Ron was counting on him to try and get her back home. "Okay, fine. She had blackmail on both of us. But what did it have to do with you running?"

"It's a long story," she said slowly. "And it's one that I don't know if I have the energy to tell."

That much was true, he could see. She looked worn down and maybe even a little bit defeated. It killed him a little to see her like this. She'd always been so energetic, full of life. He couldn't help wondering how much his and Ron's sudden appearance in her life was attributing to her weariness, though. He didn't remember her looking so tired before when they'd first showed up. "Well you've gotten this far. You can take your time, however long you need to take."

"I don't even know where to start, really. I guess it began with your fight with Ron at Hog's Head that night. You two were overheard and someone tailed you. They knew you stayed at Neville's for a while and waited for you to leave—I have no idea how they found out about Grimmauld Place, let alone how to gain access to entering. I guess the how of it doesn't really matter, though. Anyway," she said after taking a deep breath, "she got what she needed. And she couldn't have been more thrilled with it."

Harry could only imagine. Rita Skeeter basked in other's misfortune. As long as a good story could be drawn from it, the lives of those involved didn't matter one iota to her. And he wasn't at all surprised about Skeeter discovering Grimmauld Place. If any reporter was determined enough to figure it out, she was that lone reporter. And as much as he would like to say otherwise, that annoying reporter was smarter than he cared to give her credit for. Now he would have to get new security for the house.

He made a mental note to tell Oliver about it as soon as possible so he could work on something. Chances were, Hermione had already taken measures to secure the house after she found out its whereabouts had been discovered, but still. He'd rather switch it. It would probably be best to keep updating the protection around the house anyway, just to be safe.

"Okay, so we have the blackmail. Why did she wait so long to come to you with it?"

"She wanted the dust settled first, she wanted the element of surprise. Anyway, other reporters had been nagging Ron and me for ages for your whereabouts. They hounded us, tailed us, spied on us. Harry Potter disappearing was big news."

He sank into the chair, wishing beyond anything that he could have at least kept the vultures off of his family and friends. "I know it's not worth much to you, but I'm sorry. I had reasons for leaving and the press was one of them."

Her eyes sparkled with rage. "Did you have reason for leaving without saying goodbye? Not even to the Weasleys of all people?"

And there she was again, the pot kelling the kettle black. The hypocrisy of the statement ate at him. She left too, yet there she was, ragging on him? "Do you want to get into that right now?" She pursed her lips together and looked away. He snorted and bit back frustration. "Yeah, I thought not. Perhaps, then it's probably best we stick to the topic. So the reporters hounded you—Ron told me that. What else?"

He expected a little bit of resistance and was surprised to find none. Instead, she dove right in with the explanation again. "One day, she'd cornered me during my lunch break. She'd looked weird—had a funny expression on her face, so I'd instantly been on my guard. Mind you, you should always be on your guard around that woman, but nonetheless, I'd been even more suspicious of her than I usually am. Anyway, she'd looked so smug and proud of herself, like she'd just come across crown jewels. And, in a way, she had jewels. Her information was valuable and she'd wasted no time in presenting it to me. Apparently, her original intent with the material had been to blackmail me into telling her where you were. None of the reporters believed Ron or me when we'd said we had no idea where you were. So she thought maybe I would talk and be more truthful with a little bit of incentive and I guess she wanted to be the one to locate the untraceable Harry Potter and get her moment of fame.

"Well, when I'd told her the same thing I'd told everyone else, she got angry. Then she threatened to go to 'the bumbling redhead,' as she so kindly referred to Ron. I couldn't tell her anything different, and I panicked. So I made one last effort to look for you and came up empty handed. When she and I met up again, we came to an agreement. She wanted some sort of 'justice' for the humiliation I dealt her back when we were still at Hogwarts. She hated me—still does, I imagine—and she wanted me gone and out of her life for good. She said if I left and stayed gone, she wouldn't 'dish the dirt' on me to the Weasley boy. She didn't care that there would be other people hurt by exploiting that information; she just wanted me to leave. She wanted to be able to say she won."

His mind was spinning. He never would have guessed that she would cave into something like that. It just didn't seem like her. "And that meant leaving as fast as possible, without letting people know where you were going, without letting them know you were safe?"

Hermione sighed. "I wanted to let them know, I did. I didn't want Ron to have to go through the same thing twice. But anything I would have said to them, especially to Ron, would have led to questioning. Ron wouldn't have accepted it. And you know it."

He did know it. They never would have just let her go without trying to convince her she was making the wrong decision. It was one of the reasons he neglected to say anything to the Weasleys. But at least now he knew the reason behind her leaving—she'd done it to protect Ron from learning about their night together. And now that it was out in the open, she could come home. There was no blackmail left to worry about. "Okay. I understand why you left. I get it. But none of that matters now. Hermione, you can come home."

She snorted. "Have you not been listening? If I go back there, she'll go straight to Ron. He'll get hurt even more than he already has been and—"

"He knows."

She froze, her eyes growing wide. Disbelief shown on her features and her jaw dropped. "What do you mean he knows? How can he know?"

Harry took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. This was his trump card—if it failed, he had no idea how to get her back home where she belonged. "He asked me if we had ever been together and I wasn't going to lie, not when he asked me right out. I told him the truth in hopes that I could at least salvage what was left of our friendship."

Hermione shook her head, defeated. "Oh yeah? And how'd that work out for you? I can just imagine that Ron was jumping for joy."

"Actually, he handled it really well. He's pissed, yeah, but I think that maybe with a little time and effort, things will be okay. I—" But his thought was cut off at that moment because his owl flew in through Hermione's open window. The bird dropped a note in his hands, hooted happily and waited for some sort of treat. Harry gently stroked his beak and it nipped at his finger. "Sorry, buddy. I don't have anything for you here. I left it at the hotel."

"I have some food. I'll get him water, too."

"Thanks," he said quietly.

He looked at the front of the envelope in his hands, recognizing the feminine scrawl automatically as Kate's. His fingers tore the sealed flap open, then reached for the waiting stationary inside.

_Harry,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Teddy and I haven't heard from you in a while, so he wanted to check in. He misses his Uncle Harry. He's getting into everything_—_the little guy is far too intelligent for his own good. Just yesterday, Ted sneaked his little hands into the cookie jar. I would have punished him, but he looked too darn cute when he got caught. You should have seen his face._

Harry smiled at the image. Oh, poor Kate. Ted was doing a number on her—he'd gotten caught with his hands in the cookie jar more times than Harry could count, so it was no new experience for him. But he probably knew he cold fool Kate. Harry could just imagine Ted putting on an innocent face for a grand effect, using his adorable looks to his advantage. He was certain that by now, he had Kate wrapped around his little finger. Unable to help himself, he started laughing. His godson was a little sneak. He had his mother to thank for that, no doubt.

_There's something you should probably know, though. I wasn't going to mention it, but it's happened more than once. Harry, I think someone's following me. I'm keeping an eye on things and I'm never letting Ted out of my sight, I swear. I haven't noticed anything for a week now, so I really don't think it's anything to worry about. I just wanted to keep you informed since Teddy's with me_—_I'll keep updating you if anything else happens, which, I don't think it will. Things have been quiet. _

_So how is everything across the pond? I hope you've been able to keep a low profile like you wanted and those awful reporters are leaving you alone. Any luck on catching the bad guys? We miss you!_

_All my love, _

_Kate (and Teddy, too!)_

His smile faded at the rest of the message. He trusted her instincts, so if she said someone was following her, it was probably accurate. Kate wasn't a paranoid woman with an overactive imagination and he could sense the worry she felt for Teddy's sake over the situation. But he had to get a grip and not let himself jump to conclusions—she wouldn't have even mentioned it if it hadn't been for Teddy, he knew that much. So it couldn't be too serious.

"Everything okay?" Hermione asked from behind as she placed a bowl of water down for his owl.

"I don't know," he said truthfully. "I'm not exactly sure what to make of this letter, actually."

"What's it say?" She peered over him and he couldn't breathe for a moment. It didn't even occur to him that she was reading the note like they hadn't been apart from each other for five years. Her nearness washed away the time and just like that, he could remember how she felt in his arms. So soft, so incredible . . . so _right. _Her scent invaded his senses and she smelled exactly like he remembered, better even. Then the functioning part of his brain noticed her body tense and he grew confused. He was about to ask what was wrong with her, but he had no need to. She answered for him as though she could read his mind. "Your girlfriend sounds worried. You should write her back."

Girlfriend? What was she on about? He hadn't had a girlfriend—well, a serious girlfriend—in years. Ginny was probably the last serious relationship he could a lay a claim to. Unless . . . .? He burst out laughing as he realized that she thought Kate was his girlfriend. He hadn't even given her closing a second thought because that was how she signed off all of her notes. He hadn't considered what it must look like to a perfect stranger. "Kate is not my girlfriend, Hermione. She's a close friend and Ted's nanny. That's all."

"It's none of my business," she said with a shrug.

Anger flooded through him. He really was pathetic. He'd spent the last nearly six years of his life pining over her and for what? Even now, after all this time, she refused to acknowledge anything between them. And he was through not knowing why. "It could have been your business."

Her lips thinned and she rolled her hands into tiny fists. "Don't. Don't do this."

"Why not? We both have had five years to ignore it. Don't you think it's time to talk everything out? Don't we owe ourselves that much?"

"I don't owe you anything," she tossed out. The venom in her voice shocked him. He wasn't aware that she could speak that way to anybody, except maybe someone like Malfoy or Rita Skeeter. "You screwed everything up when you went to Ron and told him about that night. Everything I worked for was for nothing now!"

The chance to ask her what she meant was lost because in the blink of an eye, she was gone. And to further add to his confusion, the last thing he heard, was a strangled sob echoing through her cottage.

* * *

It didn't take him long to figure out that she'd gone to Alec. It was clear that Alec was his Kate and she would be the first person he would go to now. On the rare occasions that he and Hermione would get into an argument in the past, he would have guessed she would go to Ron—maybe Ginny, but that was pushing it. If she had a row with someone else, Harry had automatically been deemed her confidant. But things were different now. She had a new go-to person and he would freely admit that he missed being the one she could count on. He hated that he had a part in upheaving her life right now.

There wasn't anything he could do about it, though, and surprisingly, he didn't regret coming back to England. In fact, he was oddly grateful for the opportunity. Had it been left up to him, he wouldn't be in Greece, confronting his past. He would still be back in New York, behaving like a coward instead of facing things head-on. With each day he spent in back in England, he could feel himself returning more to his old self every day. And he was surprised to discover that he had missed the old Harry.

The new Harry definitely wouldn't be eavesdropping on anyone close to him. He'd kicked the habit long ago when his eavesdropping sessions had brought him nothing but trouble. Now though, he didn't really have much choice if he was going to get anything out of Hermione. He was oddly elated that he didn't even feel the least bit guilty for it. In fact, he felt a bit of a rush being back under his Invisibility Cloak, "investigating". Yeah, it was weird that it was Hermione he was spying on, but it didn't lessen the new-found adrenaline pumping through his system.

"I don't know what to do, Alec," she sobbed.

His adrenaline rush slightly stilted (though not completely), Harry felt much like a peeping Tom under the guise of his Invisibility Cloak now that he was confronted with tears, but he was at a loss. Desperate times called for desperate measures and he was pretty damn desperate. This would be one way he knew for certain that he could learn more about Hermione's time in Greece and what she'd meant earlier when she'd said he screwed everything up.

Alec moved a comforting hand over her back and despite the fact that Harry knew very well the man was not interested in Hermione (or any woman for that matter), his gut involuntarily clenched at the sight. "Hermione, you knew he would be here one day, you knew that if anyone would find you, he would. You've told me yourself many times."

"Yes, I know. But I never dreamed he would tell Ron everything!" Her voice cracked and she sniffled into the other wizard's chest. "All the lies . . . they've all been for nothing."

He heard a long sigh and wished they would just get this conversation over with. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but maybe this is for the best."

Hermione looked outraged. "What?"

Alec threw his hands up in surrendering gesture and he actually appeared to be scared. "Hear me out. Look, it's all out in the open now. It's not your burden to keep anymore. Maybe . . . maybe you can even tell this Harry fellow how you really feel about him. You can be _happy_ for once." Harry's heart pounded loudly in his chest and he was wondering how they weren't able to hear it—it sounded as loud as a drum to him. What was this guy talking about? What did he mean when he said Hermione could tell him how she really felt? He thought she'd already made her feelings noted. Was that part of the lies she was talking about? "Hermione, I've known you for a little over a year now, and it's been a great year at that. But . . . I don't think you belong here. And I think you know it."

Tears pooled in her eyes and she lifted her chin slightly. "You don't want me here anymore?"

An exasperated sigh filled the room. "You know that isn't it at all. On the contrary, I'd tie you up and keep you here forever if I could."

"But—"

"Hermione, nothing is keeping you here anymore. The blackmail that wretched Skeeter woman had over you is no longer an obstacle, so if you ask me, Harry did you a favor when he told Ron the truth. You can go home now."

"Ron does want me to go back with him," she admitted in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "He spent most of the afternoon trying to convince me."

"Then what's stopping you?"

She sniffled. "Don't you see? Harry's going to hate me when he finds out what I've done. He doesn't like me much now as it is. I've already hurt him more than enough, don't you think? If I tell him the truth, I'll lose him more than I already have."

Harry's mind was completely spinning. None of this story Hermione was relaying to Alec made any kind of sense to him. When she'd left her house, Hermione had made it sound as though she were furious with Harry. But now it seemed as though the person she was really angry with was herself. Then there were all the romantic implications involved. And she really believed that he didn't like her very much? Though the last thing Harry felt like doing was laughing, the idea was so absurd that it clearly warranted laughter. She was supposed to be the brightest witch of their age. And she thought he didn't like her?

Well, he supposed she was right in a way. He didn't like her very much—he was in love with her. And that was a concept he couldn't seem to get her to grasp.

Jealousy rippled through him as Alec tucked a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. Part of the jealousy was the fact that he couldn't bring himself to dislike the man anymore. Knowing he'd been there for Hermione the last year was comforting and for that, he could at least make an effort to not hate him on plain sight anymore. Plus he seemed like a decent man and he could see why Hermione was so evidently drawn to him. Damn it. "Tell him," he said again. "He'll forgive you."

_Listen to him,_ he thought frustratedly. He wanted to know what was going on. What exactly did he need to be told?

"So I'm supposed to tell him that I lied to him when I told him it was 'just hormones'? You think he'll forgive me for that?"

Shock overwhelmed him. Did he really just hear what he thought he did? Did she really just say that she'd lied all those years ago? He felt lightheaded and wasn't sure what to do.

She'd lied. The last five years of his life had all been based on a lie. On _her_ lie. He'd spent all this time thinking he'd completely tossed his friendship with Ron down the drain for nothing because he definitely wouldn't have made a move on Hermione if he thought she'd only felt attraction for him. He wouldn't have risked his friendship with Ron for a romp in the hay to satisfy an itch. And it turned out it could have been worth something?

He couldn't help thinking how different his life would be if only she hadn't lied. Why would she have done that? What purpose did her untruthfulness serve?

"You didn't see his face," she continued in a whisper. "I knew it would hurt him when I made the decision to lie, but I . . . Damn it, I thought I'd done what was best!"

"How can you be sure that was the best thing for everyone, though?" Alec questioned lightly. "I understand that you wanted to protect Ron and Harry, but you can't control everything Hermione. You two—three, actually—are going to have to sit down and talk this all through if you have any hopes of ever getting your friendship back on track."

Harry had heard enough. And Alec was right—they did have to talk. Only he was going to have a few words with Hermione first and he was going to have them now.

He tore off his Invisibility Cloak, his face undoubtedly contorted with anger. Alec jumped in fright and fell out of his seat, emitting a string of curses, while Hermione appeared to be frozen. Harry knew he probably should have waited to confront her, but he was damn tired of being the sacrificial pawn in everything. So she'd lied to protect Ron, had she? Evidently his feelings hadn't mattered and that made him absolutely livid. He wanted an explanation and he wanted it now. Of their own accord, his fingers rolled into fists. "Explain," he bit out. "Now."

* * *

Okay, so first things first, I must apologize. I had hoped to aim for August, but these last two months have not been a good month for me. I'll spare you all the details, but I haven't been able to write and this is the first opportunity I've had to get an update to you guys. I promise, that this _will_ get finished. It might take me a while to get there (which is why I waited until I was so far into it to post it in the first place). So thank you guys so much for the patience you've given this story and to me. I appreciate it!

Also, I won't have time to get individual reviews. I'll try my hardest, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to or not. There were a LOT this time around, which I absolutely love you guys for! Heh. Maybe I'll start replying to review as they come instead of waiting until I upload a new chapter. Hmm.

Okay, so we learn a little more about Hermione, yay! Her actions probably don't make a lot of sense, but I hope this explanation with Rita Skeeter helped to clear a few things up. She really didn't have a choice if she wanted to keep things tight-lipped. She'd sacrificed her chance to be with Harry because she knew that how they got together was wrong and that it would hurt Ron in the end and maybe cost Harry his family. She didn't want that, so that is why she left the way she did. Everything will come together in the end, I promise.

All that being said, I hope this was okay. I'd been out of practice writing for this story, so I hope it had a good flow. All in all, I'm pretty satisfied with how the chapter turned out. First draft was horrendous. *shudder* Also, if you happen to catch any mistakes, point them out so I can fix them pretty please! I edited this, but I tend to miss things. Heh.

Things will be wrapping up soon, hopefully. I'm aiming for 15-20. This will definitely not go over 20 chapters. If it does, scold me please. Lol.

Now on to the thank-yous! You guys were seriously awesome for leaving all these reviews. You rock!

**jafr86, pawsrule, quinzy, F5Chaos, furin-a, oceanluvr, Aaron Leach, laurieoflove, SorrisoD'amore, major wallace, ooSuperBatGirloo, 31EliZAbeTH919, RoxyBabyX, carbon12.011, dracoluvathatiam, Dannie Tomilinson, toooldforthis, sunshine21409, Hypno **(7 times)**, lycus, magicslifer, **and** Wind Kunai**.

Phew. I think that's everyone.

And that concludes this update, I believe. Please keep those reviews coming! They're inspirational, they are. :)


	11. Chapter 11

_Previously on IYOK_:

Harry is living in the States, brooding about the unfairness of life. He gets a completely unfair mandate from his boss that he has to suck it up and deal with the being assigned to a case that involves his team of Aurors going back to Jolly Old England. He throws a tantrum and asks his nanny friend Kate to watch his godson for him so he can keep the cute little tyke out of the press. The team arrives in England and Harry does something really stupid and actually goes for a walk. He, of course, immediately gets noticed and flees the scene and heads to Hogwarts. Harry magically gets in with no security issues at all-imagine that!-and runs into Professor McGonagall, now Headmistress of the school. While there, Harry learns his best pals have called it splitsville. He also runs into his old pal Neville and confesses what happened between him, Ron, and Hermione.

See, Ron was a big meanie to Hermione and the two of them got into a fight, which had her in tears and that led her straight into Harry's arms. Coitus ensued and Harry was happy in more ways than one, but then Hermione told him it didn't mean anything and Harry ran away to the US after that, which brings us back to present day.

Harry and his team of Aurors had to go into hiding because of Harry's fame so they could actually get work accomplished and Harry runs into Ron at Grimmauld Place, where he learns that, hey-Hermione's run away too! What are the odds?

The team gets called into the ministry and are forced to work with another team of Aurors-the horror!-which consists of Malfoy? W T H? Really? Malfoy?

Anyway, once Harry gets over that shock, he gets a brilliant idea that helps him find Hermione! Awesome!

He and Ron go on a mission to get her back and when they meet up with her again, they find that she's befriended a hot new wizard that makes them both really jealous, even after they find out that this wizard is not a romantic threat. Harry and Hermione get into an argument after he tells her that he's figured out the mystery of her disappearance-gosh darn that Rita Skeeter-and she storms out of the house in a huff. Really, Hermione, not cool.

Harry goes to spy on her-even less cool-and discovers that she lied! Oh no, she did not. But, apparently, she did. That pesky thing called eavesdropping. Gets you into trouble every time ...

* * *

"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 11

* * *

Hermione's brown eyes were wide and perhaps even just a little fearful. He had no doubt that his face was a terrifying sight right about then—but he felt the betrayal, the knowledge of her lies seeping through him and he wanted to know why. He deserved to know why.

"Explain," he repeated.

He was still trembling from the aftermath of the shock. He'd had little time to process anything that he'd just discovered and he had to keep reminding himself that despite everything, he was still in love with this woman and wished her no harm. But bloody hell, he was having a difficult time remembering that detail. He honestly didn't know what he was supposed to be feeling other than betrayed.

Alec stepped forward after he got up and brushed himself off. "Harry, is it?"

His eyes never left Hermione's frozen face. Never once did he look over at her newfound friend. "What?"

To Alec's credit, he didn't waver. While both men knew that he wouldn't lay a finger (or use his wand) on Hermione despite his boiling anger, the same couldn't be said for Alec. He was quite tempted to at least punch the man. "Come with me, please."

That got Harry's attention. What on earth could this stranger possibly have to say to him that he couldn't say in front of Hermione? The thought of doing anything except getting the truth out of Hermione once and for all was off-putting. He'd had enough games. "No," he said promptly. "Hermione and I—"

"Will talk. She's not going anywhere. You and I just have a few things we need to discuss first."

He doubted that much. There were things he needed to discuss with Hermione, sure, but not with this guy in front of him. Looking at Hermione, though, he could see that she needed time to get her bearings back. She looked like she was going to be sick. Or cry. Or maybe both. Harry felt some of the tension drain out of him and for the life of him, he couldn't understand why he was considering forgiving her so quickly. All he wanted was to gather her in his arms and erase all of her problems.

_No_, he told himself firmly. She had quite a bit of explaining to do before he was going to turn to mush. He was not going to make this easy for her—not when it had been hell for him. He would, however, give her the time she needed to collect herself. But if she ran, there would be hell to pay. He wanted answers.

Reluctantly, he turned to Alec. "Fine. Let's go."

He nodded and followed the bronzed wizard away from Hermione. The surrounding area was truly beautiful, so much so it made him see why she had picked the Greek Isles. The setting sunlight bounced off the Mediterranean and for a moment, he was left breathless at the sight. Children were playing down by the shore, so carefree. He'd long ago stopped feeling envy at those who led a carefree life; it was pointless and an unhealthy obsession. Instead, he found himself smiling at the sight.

Alec shouted at one of the children. The little Greek he knew told him Alec had just yelled at the little boy, Lukas, to get away from the water. Interesting. The action—in addition to the look on his face—appeared paternal. Protective. The boy, who could be no older than three, came running over to Alec with a wide smile on his face and instantly demanded to be picked up. The man laughed and immediately obliged. "Harry, this is my son, Lukas."

Son? Hermione had told both him and Ron that Alec was gay. Yet there was no mistaking the resemblance. Now that Harry had gotten a closer look, Lukas looked like a little mini-me version of Alec. "Son?" Harry asked stupidly.

But if Harry thought Alec would take offense to the question, he'd be wrong. He smiled. "I didn't always realize my preferences. I met Lukas's mother about four or five years ago. We had a brief relationship before I discovered who I really was and, while I regret how it ended, I can't regret the relationship itself. Being with her gave me this young man right here and I wouldn't trade him for anything."

Harry couldn't imagine how they got everything settled out. He had a hard enough time juggling Teddy and work, even with the help of Kate. At least he didn't have the added relationship troubles that Alec had with his child's mother. And as much as he didn't want to, he developed a new respect for Alec at handling the situation wit the finesse that he was. He knew quite a few men who wouldn't be up for the responsibility. "Sounds quite complicated."

Alec shrugged. "We work it out. His grandmother is just over there watching him, but I can't help but get overprotective. Hermione is a big help with him, too. Lukas loves her." At the name, the little boy's eyes lit up and he began speaking in rapid Greek. Alec laughed and shook his head. "Sorry, kid. She's not here right now. We'll play later, okay?"

At Harry's questioning look, he explained. "I'm teaching him English. He can understand a little bit, but he can't quite master speaking it yet. He's getting there, though." He nodded, unsure of what to say. The discovery of the young boy left him feeling slightly awkward. Thankfully, Alec picked up on it and turned his attention to the child in his arms. "Go to γιαγιά. And don't get that close to the water again."

The young boy squirmed out of his father's arms and Harry instantly felt nostalgic. Lukas reminded him of Teddy—certainly not in looks, but in everything else. Or maybe there was nothing similar there at all; maybe he was just missing his godson because this was the longest he'd ever been separated from him. He held in a frustrated groan. All he wanted was to solve this stupid case and get back home to that little boy, even more so now with Kate's note still running in the back of his mind. But there were no leads. He and his team were no closer to finding who was behind the attacks than they were when they'd first arrived. And Jerry had given them no updates on anything, which was just swell.

Frustration ate at him for numerous reasons. He missed his godson and he missed Kate, he couldn't find the right information that he needed to put together the pieces of the puzzle, there was a giant elephant standing between him and his best friend—add that to another problem he couldn't fix—and then, of course, there was the whole mess with Hermione to put the icing on the proverbial cake. Splendid.

"You are angry," Alec stated.

Harry rolled his eyes and couldn't bite back sarcasm. "Really? I hadn't noticed that."

"And I understand your anger, I truly do. It is correctly place. But she was trying to do the right thing, your Hermione.""

_The right thing my ass_, Harry thought bitterly. So the right thing included tossing away whatever they had between them to spare Ron? Granted, he knew how they'd gotten together wasn't the right way to go about it—it was so many kinds of wrong. But at this point, after finding out that a relationship between them hadn't even been a consideration for her, he was beyond caring about sparing Ron's feelings.

He tried to pull his anger in check, but it was hard to be rational when he couldn't decided whether he wanted to hug Hermione or strangle her. No other woman had ever been able to get under his skin like she could and the feeling was nearly foreign. He'd forgotten how riled up she could make him.

A fond smile lit up Alec's face, catching Harry's attention briefly. He appeared lost in memory. "I met her when she first arrived in Greece and I remember thinking that I had never seen such sadness in a woman's eyes in my life. I offered her a drink and she burst into tears." That sounded right. When her emotions were running high, it didn't take much to send her tumbling over the edge. "It took her a long time to open up to me. But when she did, she held nothing back. All she talked about was you. And Ron, but mostly you. She loves you, Harry."

"Yeah, well she has a funny way of showing it, doesn't she?"

Alec shook his head, his face eliciting sympathy. The pity was plain as day and that was the last thing Harry wanted. Who needed the pity of a complete stranger? "This is why I pulled you away from her. You need to clear your head before you talk to her. From the way she described you, it sounds like you're quite impulsive. Getting into an argument with her because of that impulse would not be a good thing. You'd wind up saying things you didn't mean. Just . . . take a step back, please."

Harry's jaw clenched. "You don't even know me. And you're telling me to step back when all I want to do is find out the truth?"

"No, I don't know you," he agreed. "But I do know Hermione. And I know that right now she is back there, freaking out because you've overheard everything that she's worked so hard to keep from you and Ron. She needs a bit of time to calm down."

A bit of time to calm down? No. It was time for answers and he wasn't going to wait a second longer. He didn't like being manipulated, he hated being somebody's puppet and Hermione of all people should have known that. Yet she played him like a pawn in a game of Wizard's Chess. Well now he was going to make his own moves. No more.

"She's had her time. And it's up, Alec. I'm going back there and I'm getting the whole truth from her. Ron deserves that much. _I_ deserve that much. I'm going back over there and do not try and stand in my way."

Alec sighed, but nodded. "All right. Fine. Just think about what I said when you go in there. I hope you don't say things you'll regret because I've been routing for you and Hermione to find your way back to each other. It would be a shame if it was all lost in a moment of anger."

Harry watched as he walked away from him and over to his son. He turned on his own heel and made his way back to Hermione. Thankfully, she was still where they'd left her. He'd expected her to be on the defense the moment she saw him again, but instead, she looked sad. Regretful. She walked up to him and turned her big brown eyes on him. "Let's go back to my house. We'll talk there."

He said nothing as he followed her, hoping to unnerve her if he was being entirely honest. He wanted to rile her, push her buttons, get to the bottom of everything . . .

When they got to the house, which was a thankfully short distance—apparently she could have walked there when she'd left her house before, but she'd been anxious to get away from him.

They walked through the same entrance as before and this time, they arrived in the kitchen, which was complete with light yellow painted walls, small square tile, and copper pots hanging over an island counter. She offered him a barstool and brought down two glasses from her cabinets.

He was getting ready to decline a drink when she pulled out a bottle of muggle whisky. That he wouldn't turn down.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she grunted. "If I'm going to get through this, I'm going to need a stiff drink. You look like you could use one, too."

Reluctantly and very much against his will, his mouth turned up into a smile. It was true, after all. "Thanks." He accepted the drink and raised it to hers. "Cheers."

The liquid left a slight sting going down. When he'd first started drinking, it had burned terribly, but he was quite used to the sensation now. Judging by Hermione's wince, she definitely hadn't gotten used to it and she shook her head. "Ew. I hate this stuff."

It appeared to be true—the bottle seemed to have just been used once.

He held back a laugh. He had to remember that he was mad at her. "Then why did you get it?"

She grew sheepish. "I got it after we met at the café. There's a shop just down the street from it."

Hermione took another swig of her drink and poured Harry another. He quickly downed that, too and pushed the glass away from him. He wanted to be somewhat sober for this conversation, though he was thankful the edge was taken away.

He was already feeling more level-headed, despite his still present anger. "Okay. Talk."

She nodded halfheartedly and sat down, her cheeks already taking on a slightly rosy hue. Once more, he fought back another smirk—she always had been a lightweight.

"All right," she started. "So um . . . so you heard what I told Alec, then, right?"

"Obviously," he said through his teeth.

"I meant it. Harry, I don't know how to say this without hurting you and I . . ."

He shook his head and sighed. "You just choose Ron."

She protested, much to his surprise. "No! That isn't it at all."

He'd thought for sure that she was going to say that he was right, no matter how much he'd been hoping he wasn't. And then she goes and proves him wrong. So like her. But that only made him more confused. If it wasn't because she'd chosen Ron, then he was at a loss.

"Harry," she began again, "I really am truly sorry for doing what I did to you back then . . . did to _us_. But I did it for you."

His head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at her. Disbelief was the only thing that kept him from boiling over with rage. "Excuse me?"

"I know you probably won't believe me, but it's the truth." She took a deep breath. "That morning while you were still sleeping, I was so happy—happier than I'd been in a long time. But all that euphoria came crashing down in a split second when reality set in. I realized that the Weasleys were your family, first and foremost. I mean I'd always known that, but that night put that fact into a completely new perspective. I . . . I didn't want to take your family from you."

And suddenly, he was seeing the light. She was right; he very well could have lost his family had they found out. He had a difficult time believing that they would have gotten past a betrayal like that. But as it turned out, that hadn't mattered in the end. He ran a hand through his hair and gave her the most intense look he could muster. "Hermione, however noble your intentions were, it doesn't change that I already lost my family, does it? Ron may never forgive me. His—_my _family may never forgive me. I left. I abandoned them all."

"Don't say that," she said quickly. "Don't. They'll forgive you for this. They will—they have to."

"They don't have to do anything they don't want to do, Hermione."

She shook her head vigorously. "No. They will move past the shock of you leaving and staying gone. They'll understand. They just need a little bit of time to come to terms with everything. And they . . . they don't need to—"

Harry let out a bitter laugh, interrupting her. Somehow, he already knew the direction this was headed. "Let me guess. They don't have to know about anything? What—do you expect Ron to just keep his mouth shut, Hermione? He already knows the truth. It won't be long before his family finds out, too."

"I'm sure if—"

He slammed his hand on the table, causing her to jump back a bit. "Stop trying to control everything! This is out of your hands now! You cannot dictate how others feel, Hermione!" He couldn't seem to stop himself from shouting at her. "If Ron and his family toss me out because of everything, then I can't say I blame them. There would be nothing you or I could do to stop them, so get that through your head and don't you dare meddle again!"

Hermione remained speechless, something that surprised Harry immensely and he used the opportunity to his advantage.

"On some level, I understand why you did what you did. I get it. But that doesn't change that you made decisions for me that weren't yours to make. They were _ours_. We should have talked that out together and you went behind my back and did what you wanted because Hermione knows best," he said resentfully.

"Harry—"

"Whatever, Hermione. You know, for the longest time . . . I couldn't tell you how often I thought there was something wrong with me, that there was something in me that wasn't worthy and that was why you'd chosen Ron." Her lips parted in shock. "I honestly don't know if hearing your explanation makes anything better or worse."

She looked away and that was the last thing Harry wanted. Where was the Hermione who would fight back, who would drive him so crazy that he had to leave the room before he'd strangle her?

Once upon a time, they would have been in a place where they could talk about anything. But things had changed after the war. _They'd_ all changed.

All he knew was that he was having a hard time being near her. The lies hurt, the manipulations . . . He understood she'd thought she was doing the right thing, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

The funny thing was that he wasn't even all that angry with her anymore. The rage at what he'd discovered had dimmed considerably. But there was a long way to go before he could forgive and forget that.

Disappointed with how the conversation was going, he stood up from his seat. It was time to do what he'd gone there to do. "Look, the reason I'm here is quite simple. You don't belong here, Hermione." She looked at him then, her eyes surprised, hopeful. "I came here earlier because I was supposed to convince you to come back to London, back home. Then all this happened," he said with a small sigh.

"I'm done with manipulating. I was supposed to do whatever it took to get you to agree to come back with us, but that would be slightly hypocritical of me, wouldn't it? It needs to be your decision and your decision alone. Nobody can make you leave here. But Ron . . . he misses you. He does. I see it in his eyes, his expression."

"I know," she admitted quietly. "I know he misses me."

"Then go back with us. Either way, I wanted to let you know I'm giving serious thought to leaving the States and coming back home myself. Ted hasn't gotten that far into school yet, so it would be a good time to move him if I'm going to." He started for the door and once he placed his hand on the knob, he turned back. "We're leaving tomorrow morning at seven a.m. We got rooms at Windermere Hotel."

When she said nothing, he started for the door again. So he was surprised when she stopped him. "Harry?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think . . . do you think you'll ever forgive me for lying to you? That we'll ever be friends again?"

He ignored the pang in his chest. Friends. She still wanted to be only friends.

"Maybe," he said honestly. "Maybe with time, we can learn to forgive each other. It's not like any of us were blameless in this. I think there was plenty of fault to go around. Besides, we're adults now, right?"

She let out a small laugh. "Right."

"Right," he repeated. "Goodbye, Hermione."

He was out the door before he heard her soft echo of a goodbye.

* * *

"You said what?" Ron shouted angrily. "You told her it was up to her to choose?"

After he left Hermione's, Harry had gone back to the hotel room. He'd expected Ron to have been asleep, snoring heavily, because they were both certainly tired enough to get some sleep. But Ron was wide awake and even more so after Harry told him how things had gone with Hermione.

The truth of it all was that Harry was feeling slightly . . . disconnected. Hermione's words hadn't quite managed to sink in; it was almost like he was feeling numb to the entire thing. Almost.

Harry nodded grimly. "I did."

His friend's face turned an interesting shade of red. "But why?" he sputtered out. "She won't come back on her own!"

"I think you underestimate her, Ron. You weren't with me when I went to go listen to her conversation with Alec, but she'd been wavering already then. I just used some of what he said to her to my advantage."

"You eavesdropped on her? That surprises me."

Harry shrugged carelessly and grabbed his overnight clothes to change into. "Shouldn't. How many times have we eavesdropped in the past?"

"But that's different—it was never on each other!" He stopped pacing and Harry fought back a grin at the horrified expression on his face. "Was it?"

"No," Harry said quietly. "It was never on each other. I never eavesdropped on you or Hermione."

Relief washed over Ron's face. "Good. But anyway, I can't believe you're leaving her to do the choosing in this. It's never going to happen!"

He was nearly at his wits end. Of course he wanted Hermione back—he wanted that more than anything despite his anger with her at the moment. But he was unwilling to try to guilt her into returning to England. It should be her choice and hers alone. "I think there's been enough manipulation to go around for all of us, don't you think?"

Ron fell silent at that, leaving Harry to ponder their other big issue. He was tired of feeling the elephant in the room, tired of the silent tension between them. He wanted it to not be swept under the rug anymore. "Look, I think we should talk about everything, Ron."

"Not now. I'm happy ignoring it for the moment," Ron said curtly.

"I'm not!" Harry said, surprising himself with the truth. "We're never going to be able to move on if we have this hanging over our heads."

"Why do we need to rehash the past? You slept with Hermione behind my back, then left for whatever reason you comfort yourself with. End of."

"Ron, come on—"

"What do you want to talk about, hmm? The fact that you _knew_ Hermione choosing you over me was one of my biggest insecurities, but that just didn't seem to matter? Or how 'bout this one? How about the fact that you left my family behind without one single word of goodbye to them and left me to do the job for you! How 'bout you left us to deal with the fallout of your disappearance with those bloodhound reporters? How's that for talking for you? What's it solved? Anything?"

Harry swallowed roughly, but nodded. "Yes," he whispered. "Let's talk about all that."

Ron swiped a hand angrily over his face. "You don't want us to talk about this, Harry. You have no idea how pissed off I am. None."

"Then tell me. I can't fix it until you do!"

"Fine!" Ron shouted angrily. "You want me to tell you the truth, then here it is! You may have defeated the darkest wizard of the age, but you're a bloody coward when it comes down to it, aren't you?"

Fueled by his inability to see anything other than red, Harry's fist seemed to have a mind of its own and accordingly connected to Ron's face. _Screw talking,_ Harry thought angrily. Fighting was a better remedy anyway. The connection his fist made produced a satisfying sound, but Harry didn't have long before retaliation occurred.

Ron's face contorted in his own anger and the two of them were soon in a heap on the ground, wrestling out their frustrations. Harry was quite shocked at Ron's ability to hold his own in a fistfight and his shock might have thrown him a little off guard because Ron was getting the best of him.

He began to lose track of who was punching whom. An elbow connected with his face, sending a searing pain through him. Harry saw stars and quickly shook it off, landing a hit to the back of Ron's head. His friend grunted and Harry felt another blow to his side.

Harry soon got placed in an uncomfortable position and managed to knee Ron in the stomach, earning a loud 'oomf' from him. He scrambled away, but Ron grabbed him by the ankle, bringing him back to the floor again. "Slimy, cheating git!"

"Lousy friend!"

"Lousier friend!"

After more back and forth fighting, the two of them no longer had the energy to keep at it anymore and it was soon over, much to Harry's relief. Both wizards panting and exhausted, they finally lay still on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

Harry's jaw throbbed and he was sure Ron's stomach wasn't in the greatest conditions, either. "How's your stomach?" Harry asked, out of breath.

"Hurts like crazy. I think you may have bruised a rib."

"Sorry," he said sincerely.

"How's your face?"

"I'm going to have a bitch of a headache."

They fell silent again. Though things felt a little better, both wizards were well aware that there was still an elephant, there were still hurt egos and residual pain from the past. Ron's words, calling him a coward, they stuck in Harry's mind and just wouldn't go away. Maybe they were all cowards. "I don't really know what else to say. There's nothing else I _can_ say."

Ron sighed. "You should have talked to us, we would have tried to help you. But you wallowed in your self-pity for months and months and retreated into some dark corner of your mind that none of us could get to! We didn't know how to deal with it!"

"And you never tried, either, did you?" Harry retorted, just as angry. "How many times did you just leave Hermione to try to deal with me, huh? How many times did you just walk away, knowing that I wouldn't talk when you asked me to? Maybe I was a coward, but so were you. And I'm sorry I shut you all out. I just . . . I couldn't face you or your family knowing what I'd caused."

Some of the fight left his friend at that and confusion took over. "What on earth are you talking about? What do you think you caused?"

Harry sat up and placed his elbows on his knees. Talking about this had always been forbidden territory for him. It made everything more real. But it was time it was dealt with. He couldn't hide from it anymore. "George lost his bloody ear because of me, Ron, because he was pretending to be me! He lost his brother—_you_ lost your brother because of a war that ended with me. I was Voldemort's prime target. Me. Those lives . . . Voldemort was defeated in the end, but not soon enough."

Ron got off the floor himself and sat cross-legged, quiet for a moment. And then he grunted, surprising Harry. "Wow. That was so egotistical, not to mention demented. You think my family blames you for all that stuff that happened? What do you think would have happened if you were just handed over to him? Nothing good, I can tell you that. We'd still likely be under Voldemort's rule, those of us that were left, anyway. You may have been the one that he wanted, but it was only because he knew you were the only real threat to him and he was right, wasn't he?

"And you think you've caused our family all that grief? Are you joking? Have you forgotten that you're the reason dad's still alive? He'd have been dead long before anybody got to him if you hadn't had that vision or whatever it was. And that war would have happened with or without you because Voldemort was a raving lunatic. Fred made his decision to fight because he wanted to help get rid of that bastard and do his part. He died a warrior, went down swinging. George made his decision to fly along side of you that night because you were—you _are_—family. Nobody blamed you for Fred's death, mate, and Fred would likely call you a speckled git for thinking so in the first place."

Annoying tears threatened to spill over, but, to his surprise and embarrassment, Ron had tears pooling in his eyes too. "I'm sorry," Harry choked out. "For everything."

Ron nodded. "I am, too. Sorry, I mean. And you need to quit apologizing so damn much. You've made your point, you know." Harry smiled to himself and felt amazingly better about everything. Things may have still been shit with Hermione, but at least his friendship with Ron was looking up. "Are you moving back?" Ron asked.

Harry hesitated. Just a couple weeks ago, the idea of coming to London to merely do a job had terrified him. But now he was finding that with each day that passed, he wanted less and less to return to the States. "Would your family still have me?"

Laughter echoed off the walls. "Are you kidding me? Mum will probably throw you a parade. Sure, some of them might give you the cold shoulder for a bit, but they've been asking about you non-stop since you've gotten back. Ginny prattles on and on about you, curses you under her breath, swears she'll do a Bat Bogey hex on you and starts crying all in the same breath. They want you back at the Burrow. Mum actually has presents all saved up for you and Ted."

"Presents?"

"Yeah," Ron said still chuckling. "She saved presents every year for Christmas and for your birthdays. We all knew it was senseless trying to talk her out of it, so we just let her save up. It was like she knew you'd be back one day. And none of us even got upset with her because I think we wanted her to be right."

Harry leaned back against the chair and looked over to Ron. "That was the hardest part, you know? Leaving your mum."

"Yeah, I know," Ron said. He paused and Harry heard his intake of breath. He glanced at the redhead, confused. "None of them know. About the situation with Hermione, I mean. I haven't told them."

That surprised Harry. He thought for sure Ron would have at least told Ginny. "Why?"

"I figured there were some things we needed to get straight before my family started poking around in our business. I love them, but they're a nosy lot. We would never have gotten a moment's peace if they found out."

Harry chuckled to himself, remembering the times he spent at the Burrow trying to run around and have secret conversations with Ron and Hermione. The task was next to impossible. Secrets didn't stay secret for very long with Ron's family.

"This is true. Probably better for Hermione's sake. Remember the last time your mum thought she and I were involved back in fourth year?"

The two of them winced at the memory. Poor Hermione had gotten the shun from Mrs. Weasley until she'd proven the gossip rags in the _Daily Prophet_ wrong. Harry could only imagine what would be in store for her if Mrs. Weasley knew Hermione had cheated on her youngest son.

"They'll find out eventually, though. Somehow they always do. I really don't know what will happen when the truth comes out, either."

"Well," Harry said after a minute. "What about you . . . about us? Will we be okay?"

Ron nodded slowly, almost grudgingly it seemed. "Um, the truth is I can't exactly be mad at you for that."

Harry's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why's that?"

Ron's face flushed red and he rubbed at the back of his neck. "I, uh, sort of cheated on Hermione, too." Harry's narrowed eyes now widened disbelievingly. That hardly seemed right to him. The look on his face must have said as much because Ron hurried on. "Well, it was an accident."

The corner of his mouth lifted and he crossed his arms. "How is that an accident? You just fell inside some other girl?"

"Okay, maybe 'accident' wasn't the best word choice, but I regretted it as soon as it happened. It was after Hermione and I had our big fight before you left. I was being a jealous idiot about everything and Lavender was just there and—"

Harry burst out laughing, unable to control himself. "Ron, of all people, you shagged Lavender Brown? Are you kidding? Oh, I'm sorry. 'Won-Won—"

"Shut up," Ron muttered under his breath, his cheeks still bright red. "Believe me when I say that I won't be making _that_ mistake ever again. Lavender is ancient history. She kept sending me owls after that and quite honestly, I'm surprised Hermione never said anything about it."

Harry had no doubts that Hermione hadn't figured out what happened herself. But he also knew that she would have kept quiet, too.

"Well she wouldn't have, would she?" Harry pointed out. "Not when she . . . well."

"Right." Ron cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Look, as much as this talk has helped things along, I think I've reached my quota for awkward pauses for the day. And I'd appreciate never talking about you and Hermione shagging each other again, please, by the way. I know I cheated, too, but I still kind of see red."

"Got it," Harry said. "And don't worry—I won't say anything to Hermione about it."

"Thanks."

Feeling more like his old self than he had in a while, he grinned mischievously at his best friend. "I'll leave that part up to you."

Ron groaned. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"You know it!"

Harry got to his feet and went to go grab a water bottle, but not before Ron chucked a pillow at the back of his head. The action didn't even bother him, if anything it made him feel better, knowing things were getting back on track. That was something Ron would have done back in their school days—something he had often done, in fact. Things felt better for the first time in a long time.

Maybe going back to England would be the best move after all. Maybe he could finally get some peace of mind with everything, even if Hermione decided to remain in Greece.

A knock at the door had his feet moving across the floor. He called over his shoulder to Ron, thinking about all the wonderful home cooking he'd been missing out on since he'd left. "Hey, Ron, do you think you could persuade your mom to make some of that stew she always used to make? I love that stuff."

"Sure," he called back. "No problem. I'm sure that will be just one of many courses for your return party."

While Harry's stomach twisted in knots at the idea of a party, it also growled at the mention of all that food. A party would be worth it if he got all those different courses.

He opened the door and was met with a surprise, causing his mind to go blank.

"Hermione."

Ron immediately came up behind him, opening the door even wider. "Hi," she said quietly. Her trunk was beside of her and Harry's heart sped up and it seemed as though Ron's was too. Her brown eyes widened. "What happened to you two?"

"Fight," they both said at the same time.

She shook her head and Harry was sure she was itching to reprimand them, but she didn't. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," Ron said quickly. "Come in."

He levitated the trunk for her and closed the door behind them after she was in. Ron gestured for her to sit down and she shook her head. Harry knew she was too nervous to even think about sitting still.

"Hermione?"

"I've made my decision," she started, pacing the room. "I'm coming back. I'm going home."

* * *

And I'm back! Tada!

Sorry for the long wait, but things happened, and ... yeah. I started having computer issues-and right during NaNo month too! Blasphemy.

So, we discover Hermione's reasoning behind everything. I hope it wasn't a complete let down and I apologize profusely if it was. But I thought there was already enough drama and angst without making it any bigger. Lol. Aaaand, this was Harry and Ron's big fight. They'll pretty much let things rest after this as far as I know. I have no plans to change that.

Anyway, things are about to get interesting after this. At least I hope they will. Next chapter will leave off in a cliffy, though-fair warning. I already know how it's going to end, I just actually need to write it now. And I'll try not to have it be so long in between updates. I may try to have this next chapter and the following one finished before I post, just so there's not a super long lag and I'm leaving you all hanging. I really hate it when I do that. Le sigh.

And omg-who here has seen the new Harry Potter? Raise your hands, come on! And how awesome was it? Best Potter film to date so far, at least in my opinion. My friends have all been squealing over it, too. I could go see this film again and again and would if tickets weren't so darn expensive. Gah.

Okay, another anyway. On to the ever-important thank-yous!

**MissKayla, jafr86, pawsrule, dennisud, oceanluvr, F5Chaos, eterna-romantic03** (x5), **Aries The Ram** (x4), **quinzy, Desertcoyote77, SorrisoD'amore, DudeFromEngland64, LordNemesis, Wind Kunai, garnett-13, Eluveitie's Slania, toooldforthis, carbon12.011, phoenixgirl23, furin-a, Petros308** (x2), **ambereyes55, Done and Gone**, _**Pratyay**_ (x3), **ooSuperBatGirloo, _Joy_, c im a dragon,** and _**innovincitore**_.

Phew! All done with that. I can't believe how many reviews came in last time around. I was all ecstatic about it and completely happy. I still have some review replies to take care of, I think, but I cannot remember for the life of me where I left off. Oopsies. If you haven't heard from me and don't for this last chapter, just know that you get a big thank you and that you rock hardcore!

And that's all for now, I think. Happy Upcoming Thanksgiving to those celebrating and to those who aren't, Happy Harry Potter release weekend!

Also, please forgive the atrocious errors in this. I would have nitpicked some more over it, but I think I kept you all hanging long enough. - is sheepish -

* * *

A/N:

I apologize for doing this, but I've decided to disable the anonymous review function. I don't mind getting constructive feedback, I truly enjoy it in fact. But sometimes a writer wants to be able to justify his/her work and not have to do it in a public review reply at the bottom of the page. I'm a little annoyed, I guess and I may decide to enable it again at a later date. Perhaps I'm simply overreacting because I'm a little emotional at the moment. Yesterday was not a good day at all for me (or my car). Anyway, I am sorry to those who used the anonymous review function and wished to continue to do so, but I checked the numbers in my account and I actually haven't gotten that many anons. Most of you are signed in and I can't tell you how awesome that is! Thank you.

I'm sorry I sound a little snotty in this probably. Gah. I'll just feel better knowing I'll have a way to privately respond to reviews should the occasion arise (if the person's PM function is enabled, that is).

Also, thanks so much for all the feedback! I'm working on chapter 12 now and hope to make some good headway with it today!


	12. Chapter 12

RECAP:

Harry leaves England a year after the war is over, unable to handle life after the fall of Voldemort. Five years later, a case involving the killings of muggles calls him back to England only to discover that Hermione is missing as well. After he and Ron put their heads together, the pair of them manage to locate Hermione and convince her to come back to England with them. Harry learns she left because she was blackmailed about their one night they shared together and she's still determined to stay "just friends" with him, even after she reveals that she lied to him. While Ron is wigged out with things, he's trying to be okay with the idea of Harry and Hermione together and be supportive.

* * *

"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 12

Instead of heading back in the morning like they'd planned to do, Harry and Ron had stayed behind an extra day to help Hermione gather her things from her house. Ron had sent her off to run her errands she needed to get finished, such as putting her leave in at the school she worked in.

Harry knew she felt guilty for leaving the place on a whim like that—Hermione rarely went for spontaneity. Even when they'd been on the run, she'd been the one to make sure things were prepared for the journey.

After she'd gone to the school, Harry and Ron learned she'd said her goodbyes to Alec and Lukas, who had come over to help with the packing as well. It was a teary goodbye for Hermione and Harry was thankful they hadn't had to stick around much longer. Luckily she'd gotten a rental house, so the lease was easy enough to break. A simple spell and the contract magically changed.

Once all of Hermione's tasks were taken care of, they set off, opting to use portkey transportation instead of apparating. In no time at all, they were near Grimmauld Place and Harry was feeling a little overwhelmed with everything.

While they'd been packing, he and Hermione had barely spoken three words to each other. He'd listened happily to her chattering to Ron and Ron conversing right back with her. In all honesty, he was a little jealous at the ease with which his two friends fell back into their former friendship.

His mind still hadn't quite adjusted to everything, his heart definitely hadn't. Even with him being as upset as he was with Hermione, the fact that she still wanted a 'friends only' policy bugged him. He didn't want to be _just_ friends. It was too hard.

So on the walk from the portkey sight to the house, he'd mostly stuck to talking to Ron, ignoring Hermione's almost wistful sighs.

Thankfully the walk didn't take long.

Harry's team greeted him at Grimmauld Place, along with, he was surprised to see, Malfoy's team. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about Malfoy being in his godfather's old house, but he supposed he would have to live with it now.

"So you found Granger, then?" Malfoy asked, almost disinterestedly.

"He found Granger, then," Hermione replaced coolly, giving Malfoy a single nod.

He shrugged and picked at the furniture. "At least it wasn't a completely wasted trip. We've basically been sitting around twiddling our thumbs waiting for Potter to get back."

Harry shot him an annoyed look and crossed his arms. "So you lot haven't been working on the case at all then, is that right? Why do I find that unlikely to believe?"

Dean smiled and tossed some paperwork at him. "Malfoy's just mad because he had to do paperwork while you were gone since he's the other team leader. Don't listen to him."

"Like I ever do," Harry muttered under his breath, taking the files.

Oliver coughed, though it sounded like he was covering up a laugh. Harry noticed that when he sat down, Claire sat next to Oliver and not Jim, who looked annoyed with the fact. He made a mental note to ask Jim what he did after he went through the notes.

Hermione stood next to Ron, whispering about something, which irritated Harry more than he would have liked it to. He scowled slightly and moved to the opposite side of the room to ignore the two of them and sat down next to Jim on the couch.

"What'd you do?" the blonde asked curiously.

Harry raised an eyebrow, pausing from looking over things. "I could ask you the same thing. She's sitting next to Oliver?"

Jim's eyes darkened and he averted Harry's gaze. "What makes you think I did anything?"

Harry laughed and went back to reviewing the notes. He remembered the numerous arguments he'd gotten into with Ginny and how he would apologize for things he hadn't even known he'd done wrong. "Because it's always our fault, even when it isn't. Remember that and you might get somewhere in the apology route."

"Well what about you and Hermione? You managed to convince her to come back, so why aren't you over there with her?"

His lips thinned and his mood dulled. Thinking about Hermione was putting him in a foul mood, which completely sucked considering he spent most of his time thinking about her. "This actually is on her. I'm mad at her and I don't really want to talk about it."

Much to Harry's surprise, his teammate fell silent, allowing him to more fully concentrate on sifting through the paperwork. Nothing unusual was jumping out at him. There was nothing new on Tony More, the detective, nor on Patricia LeBelle, the sous chef. This whole entire case was driving him mad. He was hoping that, despite his reservations of working with an outside team, new eyes would shed some new light. His hopes had proven to be utterly useless.

The worst thing about this situation was that no matter how many times they triple checked these people, no connections were happening. They had no mutual friends, no distant relatives or cousins twice removed, they hadn't inadvertently bumped into each other on the street . . . so why were they chosen?

There wasn't even a pattern in physical appearances. All had completely different makeups to them.

"I say this case is a bust," Malfoy said disinterestedly, interrupting Harry's mental rant. "There is obviously no rhyme or reason to this and the wizard—or witch," he hastily corrected at the scowl from Claire, "could be anyone. No new murders have happened. You haven't received an owl from your own boss in how long now? This whole thing is a waste of time."

Harry glared at him. "If this case is beneath you, then you know the way out, Malfoy."

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, Potter," he said with a half sneer. "I'm not saying this job is beneath me—I volunteered for it didn't I? I'm just pointing out that you lot with your following the rules are never going to get anything accomplished."

Zacharias spoke for the first time since Harry had returned. "So like you, Malfoy. Things don't get done quick enough, let's just break the rules."

While normally Harry would agree with Smith, he couldn't deny that what Malfoy was saying held a certain amount of appeal. It wasn't exactly as if he'd followed the rules all of his life. Plus, he didn't want to be stuck working on this case forever. He wanted to go get his godson and convince Kate to move out here with him. She had no ties to the States, so it shouldn't be too difficult to accomplish that task. Ted would undoubtedly throw a fit if she didn't come with them.

"I suppose you agree with this, right, Potter?" Malfoy said, peering down his pointed nose.

Annoyance bubbled in him. His patience was already wearing thin with the blonde and he'd hardly been in the room with him for ten minutes. "Don't presume that you know what I'm thinking. I can assure you that whatever you're assuming is probably wrong." Malfoy scowled and Harry ignored the headache that was forming. "What did you have in mind?"

Nine heads turned in his direction, shock written on each and every one of their faces, though none more surprised than Malfoy. Harry desperately avoided one face in particular and focused on Malfoy's response once the blonde wizard recovered. He clearly hadn't expected Harry to listen to whatever he had to suggest.

"Oh." He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "Well, I was suggesting I go undercover. See what I can see. That's pretty much the whole reason I offered my services in the first place because I could be useful in that sense. Surely someone's bound to know something from the old circles my father used to run in."

Anticipation built. This could be the very break they needed. If Malfoy tried to convince the old Death Eaters that he'd seen the error in his ways, that he was repentant, it could give them some kind of lead if he regained their trust. It was a brilliant plan, actually, one that could hold some merit to it. But . . . Harry sighed. "We're under orders, Malfoy. While I'd have no problem with sending you under, we were given clear-cut instructions that you are not to go back to that lot under any circumstances. Even though you're well-past your probationary period, they feel it's too dangerous, that you'd . . ."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed dangerously and Harry instinctively grabbed for his wand. The threatening glare had been all too familiar and he didn't like it one bit. He noticed Ron's fingers immediately curled around his as well. In fact, Ron appeared ready to whip out his wand and point it at the blonde as if he were itching for a good duel.

Oliver shook his head in a warning motion, making Harry feel only slightly stupid for automatically going for his wand—some habits were a bit too hard to break. His fingers immediately left the handle and he signaled Ron to do the same, though it took a fair bit longer for the redhead to follow suit. Ron snarled at Malfoy before he let go of his wand.

Once tensions settled down, Malfoy took a deep breath while Ron still glared and Harry tried to keep a level head. It would take some getting used to working with Malfoy and Harry recognized that his first instinct couldn't be to hex him anymore when tempers flared. Putting that into practice was easier said than done, unfortunately.

Malfoy spoke through his teeth. "That makes no sense, though. I flat out told Fletcher why I was volunteering and what benefit I would be to the team of Aurors. He had no objections then."

Harry shrugged, thinking it somewhat odd, but then again, he never had understood the way the ministry operated. "Well, I guess they changed their minds."

"They really think I'm going to want go back to them?" Malfoy spat out. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Why would I do that? Those people nearly destroyed my family, my life. Hell, they basically _did_ destroy my family, or at least the name, anyway. I've had to work for every scrap of respect that I've built for myself. Why would I risk losing that?"

Much to Harry's surprise, he found himself sympathizing just a little bit with the other wizard. He never thought the day would come where he would be sympathetic to Draco Malfoy. To be honest, he thought it was strange that the bosses had put restrictions on Malfoy going under, especially after Malfoy had put his reasoning for wanting to help all out on the table beforehand. In addition, normally they were so ruthless in solving their cases that they didn't exactly care how it was done, so this had been slightly baffling to Harry.

"I get it, I do." Malfoy scoffed and Harry knew he would never believe him. Hell, Harry couldn't believe it himself. "But I'm just the messenger, here, Malfoy. You'll have to take it up with Fletcher."

"Since when have you ever followed rules? You never bothered listening to them before."

"Maybe it's called growing up, did you ever think about that?" Harry grit his teeth, unable to believe that he was going to do what he was about to do. It was his neck on the line and it was a damn stupid move, but he wanted this case solved. "Look, you go to your boss and I'll vouch for you."

Oliver spoke up and Ron started protesting as well. "That's stupid! What if he actually goes back with the Death Eaters?" Ron pointed out.

His second in command stood up. "He's right," Oliver said. "Harry, it's your neck on the line if this goes south."

Harry's eyes flickered toward Hermione, the very face he'd been avoiding most of the day. She was quiet, sullen almost. He was surprised that she hadn't put her opinion out there. Normally she had a habit of doing so, whether her opinion was wanted or not. So it was strange to see her so subdued.

He almost asked for her thoughts on the matter, but he remembered this wasn't like their school-days. He was a grown man and he could damn well make decisions for himself. He'd been doing a decent job of it for the last five years, so there was no reason for him to revert back to his old habits.

"All right, guys, I appreciate the concern, but this is my call. If I say I'm going to vouch for Malfoy, I'll vouch for him."

Jim spoke up next. "But this doesn't just affect you, Harry. You're team leader, here. If you have to deal with a fallout from Malfoy going rogue, we have to deal with the consequences of it, too. Not just you."

"For crying out loud," Malfoy exclaimed, frustrated, "I'm not going to go rogue. I have no interest in returning to those people."

Ron snorted, crossing his arms. "Yeah, well that's what any rogue bloke would want us to think, isn't it?"

Harry could barely suppress a grin at the disdainful gleam in Malfoy's eyes. Apparently the enmity between the four of them would never truly go away and for some reason, that comforted him a great deal. So many things had changed over the course of his time away. It was good to know that Ron still despised Malfoy and that the feeling was mutual.

Resisting the urge, once again, to get Hermione's advice, Harry turned to Claire for her opinion on the subject. She was a part of the team, after all, and her say mattered just as much as Oliver's and Jim's. "Claire? What do you think I should do?"

Her hazel eyes sparkled with worry as she chewed on her lower lip. "Oliver and Jim both bring up good points," she said quietly. "This _does_ affect all of us."

"See?" Jim announced smugly.

Claire glared over at him, the smug smile immediately falling from his face. "But," she continued, "I also think that this is your decision. You're team leader for a reason and I trust your judgment." She paused for a second. "I know you're not particularly trusting of Malfoy and obviously I don't know him that well, so that puts me at a slight disadvantage. And maybe I'm incredibly naïve and far too trusting, but I think I have objectivity over you and Oliver. What Malfoy says makes sense and I believe him. I don't think he's going to turn his back on us. You have good instincts, Harry, so I believe you'll make whatever decision you feel is best. However, I do think we should wait a little while longer before you two make any final decisions. Give it a week or so, maybe something will turn up in the case by then."

"That sounds agreeable," Harry said, liking the idea. That way if they found anything, he didn't have to worry about playing babysitter to Malfoy. Not that he had much hopes of the case turning around. That would be too lucky. "So we'll wait a week."

"A week?" Malfoy started angrily. "But that's—" Harry cut him off with a warning look, causing Malfoy to throw his hands in the air, obviously at his wits end. "Fine. We'll give it a week before I send the proposal."

"All right, then," Harry said, tossing the pile of papers down on the table. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm exhausted. I say we call it a night and resume tomorrow morning."

There were nods of agreement all around the room and one by one, Malfoy's team started to leave. Malfoy looked as though he wanted to say something more to Harry in private, but Harry wasn't inclined to cooperate at the moment. If Malfoy wanted to talk, it could wait until tomorrow.

Once all of the other team members left, it was just the six of them. Admittedly Ron and Hermione should not have been there for the meeting, but it wasn't like they'd had any revelations occur. Plus, the others hadn't seemed to mind.

Reluctantly, Harry turned toward Hermione. As unhappy as he was with her, he wouldn't have her leaving the house with no place to go. He deliberately kept his voice light and carefree, though it was the last thing he felt. "Hermione, do you need me to fix up a room for you?"

Ron cleared his throat and looked acutely uncomfortable. "I offered my spare room. She's going to stay at my place," he said without really looking at Harry.

Something unpleasant curled in his gut like a rattle snake, waiting to strike out at any given moment. The thought of Hermione being with Ron again left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he was determined not to let it get to him as badly as it had before. He wouldn't run from it this time. If his two friends got back together again, he would have to learn how to deal with it.

"Fine," he said a bit too harshly. He cleared his throat, trying to get his jealousy under control. Plastering a forced smile on his face, he turned to his team members. "I'll see you lot tomorrow, then. I'm going to bed. Welcome back, Hermione."

Turning on his heel, Harry made for his room, proud of how he dealt with the blow of the news. He hadn't really wanted Hermione to stay here, not with his head as conflicted as it was. But at the same time, he didn't want her to stay with Ron, either, which made him an idiot. It was a perfectly logical solution and made sense.

Deep down, though, he knew there was a lingering fear of Hermione going back to Ron. After everything, there was still the very real possibility of that happening and he didn't like it. Even after learning what she'd done, the lies she'd told him, he couldn't stand the idea of losing her again. Not that he'd ever really had her in the first place, anyway.

Harry sat alone, contemplating things in the deafening quiet of his room. This whole mess of muggle-killings was awfully close to the anniversary mark of Voldemort's fall. He felt like a dolt for not realizing this sooner. Given everything else on his plate, though, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised that he overlooked it.

Anticipation built in his chest. He had a new angle to explore, one that he wasn't ready to share with his team yet, so he was glad of the silence. It gave him time to think things through. And something else to concentrate on besides the fact that Hermione was going to be spending the night with Ron . . .

He shook the thought from his head. No. _Time to focus, Harry. Shut those two away from your mind, _he told himself firmly.

He inhaled, the breath calming and effective, then released. He repeated the action a few more times until he was satisfied that he had a clear head.

He began looking things over again, thinking about his recent realization about the anniversary mark. Lucius Malfoy was a clever lead to toss their way, but it just didn't wash with Harry. They'd all agreed that Malfoy's father was a bust, too weak to be the one behind everything. There was something they were all missing, something so obvious. He was sure of it.

He was almost positive now that it had something directly to do with Voldemort. Though he hadn't had anymore visions of Voldemort since he arrived in England, he felt stupid for ignoring that. He'd known in his gut, before they'd even crossed the Atlantic Ocean, that Lucius Malfoy was not the culprit. He should have listened to his head when it showed Harry that image of the fallen dark wizard. He'd ignored it, though, too scared to face it.

He wasn't anymore, though.

Determined, he started shuffling through all the exact same files he and his team had gone over earlier, that he'd looked over himself who knew how many times. There had to be something there.

The muggles seemed to have no connections so far. They'd run thorough background checks on them, each coming up with nothing. So what was the point of the killings? He refused to believe Oliver's theory, that they were just random killings. They were never random.

So if it wasn't random, then what? What purpose would those killings serve?

He suddenly remembered a random case that he'd worked on with Muggle Law Enforcement. Their suspect had done it to get the attention of the department, taunt them, prove she was clever enough to continue evading them.

What if . . . what if this wizard killed the muggles to catch the attention of the ministry, to raise hackles? It was a real possibility and gave him hope. If the person wanted their attention, they had it. The next question was _why_? Why would they want their attention?

He groaned, his body starting to protest the constant stream of questions. It was time to go to sleep for a night and pick up the angle he'd thought about tomorrow.

Harry jotted down some notes so he wouldn't forget anything, all shorthand that only he would understand. The next order of business would be to inform Jerry of the new possible lead. He frowned, thinking of his boss and realizing they hadn't been owled with any information for a while. Why hadn't they heard from Jerry?

Deciding to do something about it, taking on one more task before going to sleep, Harry crossed the length of his floor to the desk and began writing a note to his boss, updating him. But as he looked at his note before sending it off, he frowned.

Jerry McLaughlin's negligence seemed out of character for the man. In the five years Harry had worked for him, he couldn't once recall an instance where McLaughlin had failed to communicate with any of his teams. Harry racked his brain, trying to think if Jerry had been acting at all peculiar before their departure. As far as he could remember, though, nothing seemed out of place.

Scowl deepening, Harry started the note from scratch and placed discreet things in there that only Jerry would know, but seemed ordinary to anyone else, should the letter get intercepted somehow. If he heard back from his boss and the details weren't overlooked, Harry would feel more at ease. If not, well then there would be a big problem on their hands that would have to be dealt with.

He thoroughly read the letter, making sure nothing would compromise the case if it wound up in the wrong hands, read it again, and then sealed it up. Before he sent it off, though, he constructed another letter, this one to Kate. He was anxious to hear from her, so maybe this would prompt her to send him some updates on everything.

Nodding after he checked the second piece of correspondence, he sent them both off with his owl.

Feeling slightly better about things, he began his night routine and started by stripping off his clothes, glad to be rid of the constrictions. Normally that was the last thing he did, but he was glad to be out of them.

Mentally and physically exhausted after the rest of his routine was complete, Harry collapsed on his mattress and willed his mind closed to all other thoughts. Sleep was the only thing he wanted and at the sight of the back of his eyelids, he allowed darkness to consume him and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Harry got a surprise visit. He definitely hadn't been expecting the young witch on the other side of the door and the sight of her made him feel slightly nervous. He rubbed at the back of his neck, taking in the young woman who'd once been his girlfriend. She'd grown up beautifully and he couldn't help thinking he'd made the right choice in breaking things off. Happiness poured out of her, even though he could sense her clear annoyance with him.

"Ginny," he said quietly. Surprised when she threw her arms around him as a way of greeting, he stood there helplessly for only a moment before returning the embrace. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the familiar scent. Even though they'd long since broken up, he couldn't stop his heart from doing a little flip at the feel of her in his arms again.

The hug was over far too quickly for his liking, but it had left a huge grin on his face. "Come in, come in." Standing aside, ushering her in, he couldn't help wondering why he hadn't gone to see her before now. It didn't seem as scary as he'd thought it would be. She looked genuinely happy to see him. "What are you doing here?"

Before she answered him, her arms were used for a new task: hitting him. She kept whacking him in various places and he raised his arms in front of his face instinctively. "Ow. Ow! Hey! Stop that!"

She advanced on him, causing him to retreat further into the house, backing away from her to avoid her hard hits. When he got to the living room, he forgot about the coffee table and backed into it, tripping backward, landing awkwardly on his bum. That didn't stop Ginny from thwacking him, though.

"I am so angry with you!"

Looking at her face, he could see other things there besides anger, but decided against pointing them out. It would likely only make her hit him harder.

He scooted back and scrambled to his feet. Merlin, he'd defeated the darkest wizard of the age and his ex-girlfriend was going to be the death of him, he knew it.

He finally managed to maneuver himself behind the safety of his couch and held his hands out in a warding motion. "All right, all right, UNCLE!" he shouted. Chest heaving, her face aglow with the flush of good old fashioned rage, she looked breathtaking. He couldn't help thinking Dean was a lucky bloke for snatching her back. Her hands fell to her sides before she crossed them under her chest. He didn't trust her enough to lower his own arms. "Are you done?" he asked slowly.

She scowled some more before she nodded.

He broke out of his defensive stance but opted not to move from behind the safety of the couch, which was a good thing. Though she was done with the violent portion of their reunion, her tongue began lashing out at him. If only his furniture could save him from that. "I swear, I ought to hex you, Harry James Potter! What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how worried we all were about you?"

"I—"

"No you don't, because you weren't here, were you?" His arms fell to his side, his good humor vanishing. His face must have turned sympathetic because she tossed him an angry glare and stuck her nose in the air, prim as ever. "Oh, don't you look at me like that. You think you can turn your big, stupid green eyes on me and make me say, 'all's forgiven'? Your puppy dog eyes won't win me over, Potter." She took a deep breath. "I swear to you that if you ever pull another stunt like that again, I don't care how many anti-tracking spells you've placed on yourself. I'll find you and hex you so bad you won't know what hit you!"

He gulped, believing every word coming out of her mouth. She would do it, too. "Noted," he squeaked out. He cleared his throat, embarrassed at the fact that she was openly smirking at him now. Clearly it amused her that she scared the wits out of him.

And just like that, the tension broke. He wasn't sure what happened, but the atmosphere shifted. He took advantage of it, rolling his eyes at her, grinning. "All right, now what are you doing here? I imagine you didn't just come here to knock me into next Tuesday?"

She snorted and went to go sit in the chair he usually occupied. "That was merely at the top of my list and now that it's been nearly accomplished, I can tell you why I'm here."

"Nearly accomplished?"

She grinned and leaned back. "Yes, well, it's not next Tuesday, is it?" He laughed and realized how much he missed this. This was what he was meant to be with Ginny. Family. "First, I came to tell you how stupid you are for not coming to see us right away. Really, Harry?" she asked, her voice slightly accusing. "The Burrow should have been the first place you stopped. Mum has been going stir crazy wondering when you're coming home."

Home. Nostalgia attacked from all sides, leaving him nearly breathless. He'd thought about going to The Burrow many times since his return to England, but the truth was, he hadn't been sure where he stood with the Weasley family. He wasn't sure he'd be welcomed back with open arms and he hadn't wanted to cause any unnecessary grief to the people he loved.

"Sorry, Gin," he said sheepishly. "I've been working this case and on top of that, your brother roped me into bringing Hermione back. I've barely had time to sleep. Ask Dean—congratulations on that, by the way."

"Thanks," she beamed happily.

Harry grinned back at her, his eyes never leaving her. "Anyway, we've been working like crazy on this case. Not a whole lot of time to do much else."

She snorted, crossing her arms again. "Oh, I know. Dean's been overworking himself, logging in way too many hours. He came home so exhausted the other night that he passed out in his work robes." She shook her head. "Okay, I'm getting off track now. Look, I came here because I'm supposed to ask you to The Burrow for dinner tonight. It's a celebration, I guess. Mum wants you there and honestly, so does everybody else."

Unable to help feeling skeptical, Harry slowly nodded, unsure of what to do except agree to go. He'd never been able to refuse Mrs. Weasley. Not ever. "Sure."

Ginny let out an exasperated groan, making a strangling motion with her hands and Harry automatically took a step back, as if her hands could stretch out and reach him from the chair. "We miss you, you ninny! What's it going to take to get it through that thick-headed skull of yours? All we want is for you to come home."

"All right," he said, stepping back again. His earlier grin returned, full force. Feeling lighter than he had in ages, he couldn't think of anything that would knock the smile off of his face. "All right, I'll be there."

"Good," Ginny said with a slight nod of her head. Her eyes roamed the room, as if looking for something. Peering back at Harry, she asked anxiously, "Is Teddy here?"

Except maybe that. The grin slid from his face and he felt the persistent pang in his chest. It was closing in on time to go get his godson. He couldn't handle being away from him any longer. These few weeks away had been anything but welcomed. Teddy was his light source, his center. He missed having the little rugrat around to focus on.

Harry shook his head in answer. "No. No, he isn't here."

Ginny's shoulders visibly slumped. "Oh."

"I didn't want to risk bringing him back into all the chaos, Gin, and it was a good thing I didn't bring him here with me. All the reporters hounding me have been a nightmare. Bringing Ted back to that was the last thing I wanted to do."

"I understand. I just miss him, I guess. He was always so much fun to babysit, even if he did have the worst case of food throw-up ever," she remarked with a wry grin.

"Food throw-up, or food throwing?" Harry asked with a quiet snicker, remembering how his godson liked to dispose of the less desired foods.

"Both." Her grin faltered for a second as she studied him, making him uneasy. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, knowing she would be able to tell he was lying regardless.

Her warning look told him he was right. "Harry."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I just miss him, that's all. I want to bring him back here so badly, but . . . but something's off, Ginny. I can't put my finger on exactly what it is, but I _know_ something's wrong with this case."

The young witch frowned, her gaze thoughtful. "Yeah, I know. Dean's said as much. He's been on edge for a while now, but he can't really talk about anything. That's not all that's bugging you though, is it?" she asked knowingly.

He gave her a wry smile, reveling in the knowledge that she could still read him so well. He didn't even bother trying to hold back. With Ginny, that task had always been difficult.

"Ted's nanny recently sent me a letter telling me that she felt like someone was following her when she would take him out to play or just go anywhere in general. I sent people to go check in on them from the office back in the States, but I just can't shake this feeling. I need to see them with my own eyes, you know?"

She was quiet for a few minutes, which surprised him. Usually Ginny was a nonstop chatterbox, bursting full of light and energy. Rarely did she hesitate. "And Teddy's nanny," she started slowly, as if trying to piece together her words with careful precision. "You have feelings for her?"

Laughing, feeling inexplicably at ease with himself, with Ginny, he shook his head, practically on autopilot. Why was it everyone seemed to assume there was something more than friendship between Kate and him? It was absurdity at its finest. "No, Ginny. I have no romantic feelings for Kate and she certainly has no feelings for me, either. She's a very close friend and Ted's nanny. She's like family to me and I suspect she feels the same way about me."

"Oh," she said, a tinge of pink coloring her cheeks. "I assumed since you stated her and Teddy as kind of a packaged deal that naturally you had feelings for her, which confused me considering everything with you and Hermione. Now I'm starting to ramble, so I'm going to go."

She stood and they walked to the door again. Still smiling, he leaned in to hug her, glad of the familiarity. This was right. He may have been meant as family for Ginny, but he didn't regret his failed relationship with her. She'd given him happiness when he'd thought he'd be able to find none. She'd been there for him, no questions asked, no expectations. "It was good seeing you, Ginny. I'm sorry I stayed away so long."

She relaxed in his arms, then hugged him back. "I've missed you. We all have," she whispered. "I'm so glad you're back. It's for good, right?"

He nodded, feeling in no hurry to let her go. "Yeah. It'll be for good when this case is settled and I get things with Teddy squared away."

"Good." Harry felt the reluctance in her when she eased herself away from him. He was surprised to find a sheen of tears in her eyes. "I was afraid you were just coming to do your job and then leaving again." She sniffled, hastily wiping a tear that had fallen. "This will be good for Ron. Maybe I'll start to recognize my brother again. I'm not used to the mature version of him. Between you and me, I don't think it suits him very much."

Harry grinned at that, agreeing with the sentiment.

Before he could respond to it, though, a voice interrupted them. "You've got to be joking. I come here to tell Harry about the dinner tonight and it turns out my sister's not only beat me to it but is badmouthing me in the process."

He and Ginny both turned to find Ron standing there with a smile on his face, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Unfortunately, the presence next to him bothered Harry more than he wanted it to. It also reminded him of the unpleasant fact that they'd spent the night in the same home. He forced his body to relax.

If this was going to work, he couldn't tense up like this every time he saw Ron and Hermione together.

"Hermione," Ginny said stiffly. "Good to see you."

Hermione could tell just as easily as Ron and Harry could that Ginny's words were only spoken for Ron's benefit. The smile on Hermione's face spoke volumes. It was as fake as Harry had ever seen. "Thank you, Ginny. You too."

"Right. Well, I really should go. Dean and I are going to have some alone time before I have to go help Mum with all the preparations for tonight. Let me tell you, I was glad to get away because she's in full-on hustling mode right now. If you're not doing anything useful, you're in her way."

The three of them winced. Before leaving, Ginny turned to her brother. "You know, you could be a good big brother and come help me later?"

Ron snorted, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Right. That'll happen."

Ginny scowled and muttered something under her breath, which was evidently a spell of some sort. It earned her a loud yelp from Ron, grabbing his butt, his face flaming red. The youngest Weasley left the house in a fit of giggles. Even Hermione was laughing with Ginny.

Being on uneven ground with his best friend caused Harry to refrain in joining in on the girls' mirth toward Ron, though it didn't stop Harry from smirking. Once Ginny left, Ron sent Hermione a glare that seemed to stop the giggling.

Ron stormed toward the living room, huffing under his breath, leaving Hermione and Harry standing alone with each other. "We really shouldn't laugh," Harry said seriously, biting his cheeks.

Hermione nodded, fighting to keep her own face straight. "No, you're right. We really shouldn't."

Mere moments later, though, a string of curses flowed from Ron's mouth that would make his mother box his ears for a week. Harry and Hermione exchanged wary glances and moved toward the living room to find Ron still rubbing his buttocks. "Damn Fred for teaching her that spell while we were still in school. She's put it to use far too many times." He looked up toward the ceiling, sneering. "I'll bet you're having a really good laugh right now, aren't you?"

"What's the problem?" Hermione asked, hesitant.

Cheeks turning even redder than before, Ron glared down at the couch, as though it had done him some great offence. "I can't sit down," he mumbled under his breath. "Like literally—I can't sit down. She hexed my bum. Last time she did this, I couldn't sit for the rest of the day."

Once more, Hermione and Harry exchanged quick glances with each other, and then, unable to help themselves, doubled over into laughter.

Ron huffed again and walked over to the chair, attempted to sit down, but yelped instead and was forced to his feet again, causing Harry and Hermione to laugh even harder. The redhead tossed them a menacing glare and stalked out of the room.

* * *

Two hours later, Harry found himself standing outside of the Burrow with Ron and Hermione. She looked just as nervous and anxious as Harry felt. He stared at the familiar place he'd spent his summers in, a wave of emotions coming at him. The strangest thing was that he had no desire to even try to run.

"Ready to do this?" Ron asked, peering at him expectantly.

He nodded, anxious to get the greetings started. He was finally ready to face his family like he should have done all those years ago. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go in."

Ron beamed at his answer and headed inside, calling out to his family. Harry glanced over toward Hermione, not at all surprised to see her looking apprehensive. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

"Mrs. Weasley is going to hate me," she whispered.

Shaking his head, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, ignoring the jolt that shot through him. "They don't know anything about us being together before. Ron's kept it quiet. So if she can forgive me for leaving, she can forgive you."

She glanced down at his hand on her shoulder, then back up at him. His heart pounded relentlessly when she made no move to shrug out of his touch. The fact that she stood there, not moving from their contact, warmed him in a way that it shouldn't have.

For a moment, she simply stared at him and he felt as if he could drown in her eyes with the way she was looking at him. And for a moment, he forgot the past, the hurt, forgot the fact that they were standing outside of the Weasley's door. His gaze drifted lower, down toward her mouth.

He swallowed roughly as she wet her lips, his chest tightened. He heard her sharp intake of breath and broke himself out of his trance, finally looking back at her face instead of her mouth.

"If you say so," she said with a weak smile. She sighed. "Come on. Let's go in."

And just like that, the spell she'd woven was broken, the magic of the moment gone and reality sinking in. She started for the door first, his hand falling back to his side. He supposed it was just as well. This wasn't the appropriate place for them to hash anything out.

He heard the cheers of welcome, the whooping and hollering from George and . . . no. Was that Bill? He could even swear he heard Charlie's and Percy's voices mixed in there as well. Was the entire Weasley clan there?

Suddenly more apprehensive than he'd been before, Harry froze in his tracks. He'd known there was the strong possibility that they'd all be there but it was a bit more nerve-wracking than he'd suspected it would be.

Ron's head popped back out of the doorway. "You coming in, or are you just going to stand there all evening?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming in."

He shook the nerves off and moved his feet forward, finally stepping into the place he'd learned to call home.

The first person to greet him was Mrs. Weasley. Her short arms welcomed him in an embrace that only a mother could give a child. His throat tightened as he returned the hug. "Oh good heavens, dear, I ought to box your ears." She pulled away and wagged her finger at him like he'd seen her do to Ron and her other children so many times before. "Harry James Potter, if you ever do something like this again, I swear to you, you won't be able to sit for a week."

The phrase had him recalling her daughter's earlier threat and it made him want to grin. _Like mother, like daughter, _he thought. It also reminded him of the incident at Grimmauld Place with Ron and his dear, sweet sister.

He caught Hermione's gaze and they both looked over at Ron, whose face flamed bright red. He bit back a smile, knowing it wouldn't be good to start laughing at that moment. Hermione hid behind her hand and he saw the silent laughter in her face. Ron was scowling and tossed Ginny a menacing glare.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley."

"Yes, well . . ." she trailed off, her eyes pooling with sparkling tears. "You're here now and that's all that matters. The past needs to stay in the past, yes?" He nodded, unable to believe how easily he was being accepted back into their family. "Well then, that's where it'll stay. We'll move forward."

Before he could move on to the next Weasley, she hugged him again, nearly squashing him. Not that he minded. She tried smoothing his hair down, which got a laugh out of him and a surprising need to cry at the same time. It was strange that a simple matter as Mrs. Weasley fussing over his hair toyed with his emotions this way. "It still won't stay down, I'm afraid."

"Figures," a deep familiar voice said. "Fitting that your hair should still be as unruly as yourself. Harry." A smile Mr. Weasley's features and Harry was shocked to see how much he'd aged since he'd been away.

It made him wonder how much of that had been the cause of worrying over where Harry had been on top of the death of his son. Harry forced himself to squash the guilt down. This wasn't the time or place—apparently the Weasleys were determined for this to be a happy occasion, as the matriarch of the household had gone all out, welcoming him back with open arms.

After his greetings with the rest of the Weasley family, he finally reached George, his face set, his usually joking manner absent. "George," Harry said with a small nod. "Good to see you again."

The older wizard nodded and Harry sensed something off with him. Something told Harry a nod would be all he got from the mischievous twin. "George," Mrs. Weasley said through her teeth.

George simply smiled a vacant, unwelcoming smile and walked to the food set out on the table and began rummaging through all the assorted dishes. "George—"

The actions George took stung, but it was nothing Harry hadn't expected. To be perfectly honest, he was having a hard time dealing with the open welcome back into the rest of the Weasley's lives. Though Harry didn't intend to allow the rift to keep between them, at least George's greeting made sense to him. "It's okay, Mrs. Weasley. I'm really just happy to finally be home."

And to his surprise, it was the truth. Because he was home. And he didn't plan on going anywhere this time.

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**Author's Note:**

Hi hiya. I won't even apologize for the lags because I fully realize that it's ridiculous. I will say that life has been completely insane, though, and that's a large reason why I haven't been posting. Chapter 13 is finished and nearly ready to go, though, and I'm going to be starting work on 14 soon, hopefully tonight. I appreciate the reviews and support for this so much and I understand if interest is lost in this. Ugh, I really fail with updating.

However, I think that there will be some progress with Harry/Hermione soon. Keep in mind that I never intended for this to be easy for them. I'm not huge on fluff.

Anyway, I hope that everyone's had enjoyable holidays!

Thanks again for all the reviews. They make my day! :D


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** Obviously, I do not own Harry Potter or anything connected to it. If I did, I would not be drowning in student loans. (Sorry - had to put this up there. I've forgotten about this and just wanted to state it for the record. Apparently there's some such going around about new copyright laws. Fun stuff.) Anywho, hope you enjoy!

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"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 13

The night progressed with laughter and stories of all that Harry had missed the last five years. George kept his distance, though Harry was more than preoccupied enough to not dwell on it too badly. In truth, he welcomed the shunning. He'd screwed up and while he missed George, he couldn't help but think he was in the right of it.

More visitors popped in and out of the house, the rest of his team and Professor McGonagall included, as well as Hagrid.

It left a bad taste in Harry's mouth to realize that he'd seen Draco Malfoy before he'd seen Hagrid. And he'd been at Hogwarts to boot. Hagrid's should have been one of the first places he'd gone to, if not the first. But he hadn't really been thinking clearly when he'd realized he'd announced his presence to the wizarding world. He'd meant to go back to the castle to finish his visit with McGonagall, but there just hadn't been time.

"Sorry I am late," a melodic, French accented voice chimed from the doorway, "but Evangeline refused to stop fussing. She is much like her father that way."

He turned to find Fleur standing there with a bouncing baby girl and Harry could barely stomach the shock. He supposed he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that Bill and Fleur would always try for children, but he'd never suspected Ron was an uncle already. Why hadn't he mentioned it before?

Ron looked apologetic. "Sorry, mate. I had too much on my mind."

"Too much to mention your niece?" Fleur reprimanded. "Shame on you, Ronald."

Apparently Ron never got used to having Fleur around all the time because his ears still turned just a shade red. Hermione snickered under breath and Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek.

Mrs. Weasley rushed over to her daughter-in-law and was rewarded with her gurgling granddaughter. Harry smiled, watching her coo over the infant and tickle her in the belly, making the appropriate baby faces. "Fleur, dear, there's food out back in the yard, still warm. I had Bill fix you up a plate."

"Bless you, Molly. I am starving." The blonde worked her way over to Harry and kissed him on both sides of the cheeks. "It is wonderful to see you again, Harry."

He smiled at her as she walked away. When he turned his attention back to Ron, he saw his friend's ears were still red. Harry raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter with you?"

"I promise it wasn't intentional that I failed to mention Evangeline to you."

Ginny grinned and placed an arm around her brother. "It's probably true. Usually Ron prattles on and on about Evangeline to anyone who will listen. I think he's most likely the world's proudest uncle."

His ears flamed red again. "Well, she's a cute little thing, isn't she? I can't believe there are people in the world that are actually that small. She's got a monster grip, though, let me tell you. She'll wrap her little fingers around you and then when you hold her she likes to tug at your hair. Blimey, Harry, I'm really sorry. I should have told you."

Ron started babbling and Harry, in an oddly good mood, laughed and placed his hand on Ron's shoulder, stopping him. "Relax. I think given the circumstances I can see why it slipped your mind."

Harry lifted himself up on a tall chair in the kitchen and he looked around the place, loving that he was back again. Not even seeing Hermione standing across the room could bring his mood down.

Ron joined him on the neighboring chair and locked his ankles around each other. Harry bit down a spurt of jealousy at the height his best friend had gained over the years. While Harry wasn't short by any stretch of the imagination, it was still something he had private grumbles over.

His friend smirked at him. "My legs are quite envious, aren't they?" Harry's face tinged pink. "Don't feel bad, mate. All the ladies admire them, too."

He rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter and huffed his chest out mockingly. "Yes, well, the ladies fawn all over my dark hair and green eyes. Beat that."

"I was on a professional Quidditch team. They threw themselves at me," he said, sticking his nose in the air.

"Yeah, yeah," Ginny said, biting into a roll. "Harry saved the bloody world which trumps any measly accomplishment you've done and makes him far sexier in the eyes of the imaginary women you two are making up. Please do shut up."

Harry started laughing at the scowl on Ron's face. While most men would have bragged about how non-imaginary the women he'd been with were, Harry wasn't proud of it, so he kept his mouth shut. Besides, the look on Ron's face was priceless. He turned to Dean, his posture defensive. "You're going to let your fiancée talk about another man that way—to her ex-boyfriend, no less? Have you no pride, man?"

Dean shrugged. "It's true. If I weren't straight and one hundred percent madly in love with your sister, I'd go for Harry any day of the week if I thought he'd have me," he said with a wink to Ron, then placed himself by Ginny's side, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Bloody unbelievable," Ron muttered under his breath.

Jim must not have caught onto the fact that Harry didn't want to brag about the women he'd been with because he started spewing out word vomit. "Ginny, I can assure you that the women chasing after Harry definitely weren't imaginary. He was a regular skirt-chaser," he said with a beaming grin.

He missed Harry signaling him to shut up and his face turned bright red. "Oh. Oops. Sorry, man."

He couldn't help noticing Hermione stiffen at Jim's declaration. Ron raised an eyebrow at Harry and it was actually Ginny who snickered at the situation. "Come on, Dean. Let's give this bunch some privacy. I have a feeling Harry's going to need it."

"Wait for me!" Jim piped up, grabbing his drink. "Sorry," he mouthed again to Harry on his way out the door.

Ron stared blankly at him. "So you were a skirt-chaser?"

"Um . . ."

Hermione still remained abnormally quiet. Normally she would have thrown her two cents in already, but it was like she hadn't even heard the conversation so far.

"That doesn't sound like you," Ron stated. "You're the relationship type. You can't help it. It's just in your nature. So what gives?"

"Look," he said, feeling slightly defensive of his past behavior, "it's not like I'm still that way now. I honestly can't remember the last time I even had sex." He admitted that with great cost to himself; he could feel the heat rush to his face and wanted to sink to the ground. Maybe that was why he was so frustrated and moody lately. He kept thinking about sex, sex with Hermione in particular, and had no way to do anything about it.

He studiously avoided Hermione's gaze and focused on the floor. "Besides, I wasn't exactly fit to be in a relationship or anything at that point in my life. I was a bitter old man of eighty-five trapped in a nineteen year-old's body," he tried joking.

He wasn't surprised that it fell flat.

"Okay, so what made you stop doing that, then?" Ron asked, curiosity plain as day.

It was honestly making Harry uncomfortable. "I don't see why you're taking such a keen interest in this. I'd rather not talk about that particular part of my time in New York."

Hermione sighed and finally walked over to them. "Harry, you can't blame him for being curious. The three of us have been best friends since our first year in Hogwarts and you were missing from our lives for five years. We want to know about it. About . . . everything."

And now he was officially uncomfortable. "You want to know about my sex life?" he deadpanned.

Her face flushed and Ron's lip twitched. "We don't want the details, no. At least I don't, anyway. But what about your relationships? Have you had any or were they all just romps in the sack?"

He flinched at the crudeness of her word-choice. They wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been for the slightly accusatory tone she was using.

Feeling his feathers get ruffled, he raised his chin and stared her, dead on. If she was going to give him the third degree, she'd get her answers, no matter how unpleasant she found them. "No, I didn't have any relationships, not unless you count the one with my godson."

She snorted. "So they were all just warm bodies?"

"Hermione," he said with a sigh, "what is the point of this? Do you really want to know that I was such a mean bastard at that point in my life that I hate remembering it? I was insufferable to everyone but Ted. I was drunk half the time and when I wasn't drunk, I was working. I got a good kick in the ass from his nanny and she put my head back on straight for me. Anything else you want to know?"

She smiled sweetly at him. If anyone else were to have seen this smile, they would have thought it normal, pleasant even. Harry, and likely Ron as well, knew better though. "Well, it's funny you should ask—"

"Okay," Ron interrupted, clasping his hands together, a bright, fake smile on his face. "I think this concludes our Q&A session for the evening. Who's up for a nice game of Quidditch in the backyard then? Any takers?"

Silence drifted through the room, winding around them, taunting Ron for his valiant effort to set the conversation on track.

Hermione's gaze flicked to Harry's, her expression completely unreadable and closed off to Harry and the tension in the room seemed to thicken. Ron looked back and forth between his two best friends, appearing to be feeling rather helpless. Harry wished he could do something to make him feel better, there wasn't much to be done.

He would have to remember to have a long talk with Jim. There were just some things about his time in New York that he'd rather not share with his best mate. Things were on rocky ground enough as it was without the help of his debauchery added to the list. He knew Jim hadn't meant to muck things up for him, but now he had to at least attempt to explain himself and he had no idea how to go about doing it either.

He wasn't quite sure what Hermione wanted from him, either. She seemed quite determined to keep him at arms' length, yet she was the first to question him on his past regarding his relationship statuses. It was frustrating. Did she really have the right to be questioning him like this under the guise of their past friendship?

He could probably handle it if he thought she was questioning him out of jealousy. Instead, he realized he had no idea what her true motivation was and it was tempting to infuriate him. He'd forgotten how well she knew how to push his buttons.

She shook her head and walked away from them silently, leaving Harry and Ron both baffled.

"I guess that's a no, then," Ron said quietly.

Harry offered him a weak smile. "That went well, don't you think?"

"I really don't know what's up with her, but she'll come around. I suppose it's just a little strange hearing about you having casual sex when the idea of it used to make you balk before. It's just weird."

His patience was wearing itself thin. If he were any other man on the planet, his actions wouldn't be questioned. Though he had to admit that he was a little grateful that Ron recognized that tidbit about casual sex—that must mean Ron knew somewhere in his soul that Harry hadn't gone behind his back because he'd simply wanted to have sex with Hermione. That was something at least.

"So I had sex with willing women who wanted no strings attached. So what? I'm sure you had romps with your Quidditch groupies to scratch your itches, but is anybody batting an eyelash? No."

Ron shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "That's different and you know it." Harry opened his mouth to argue, but the redhead stopped him. "I'm expected to be the screw up. You, on the other hand, are expected to be perfect and therefore, you're the golden child who can do no wrong."

Harry was relieved to find that there wasn't a trace of bitterness in Ron's tone, that it was teasing, even. Maybe there was hope yet. "Oh please. Of the two of us, I'm the one who opted to break the rules at every turn. When a new one was made up, I made a sport of trying to see if I could get away with breaking it."

"You're forgetting one very important fact, mate. I grew up with Fred and George, the two Weasleys who absolutely lived for breaking the rules. Their mischievousness was bound to rub off on me," he pointed out. "Besides, if you hadn't suggested breaking the rules, I would have been right behind you suggesting it instead."

"True. You're a bad influence on me."

Harry was grinning now, remembering some of the times the three of them had gotten themselves into trouble.

"Speaking of George," Ron said slowly, "he'll come around. He's only being a git to you because he thinks you deserve it."

The easy grin slid from Harry's face as he thought about George. The normally care-free Weasley had seemed to take extra care in avoiding Harry for the evening. Not once had Harry managed to talk to him. "It's okay," he said, keeping his voice light. "I'm honestly surprised I haven't run into more problems with your family. I was expecting it."

Ron sighed. "Did you really think we'd hang you out to dry after everything we've been through together?" He paused for a minute and Harry wondered if this was it. If this was going to be 'the talk'.

Judging by the look on Ron's face, it was safe to assume that it was. "Okay, I think this conversation is long past due since it's clear you think you're still entirely at fault. Maybe you've forgotten parts of the story, but I haven't. Things changed after the war, mate. We all had our own scars we were dealing with and we failed to be the support system we should have been. I shouldn't have let you go for so long—you were right when you called me a coward before.

"I saw what you were going through but I didn't know how to deal with it so I pretended it would all go away on its own. I didn't know how to reach you. I guess . . . I guess part of me knew that the only person that would be able to was Hermione. And that was on me.

"I knew that when I left during the search for the horcruxes something changed. She stayed with you and that's not something you forget. She was there for you when I wasn't."

"Ron—we already forgave you for that a long time ago. I thought we talked about it already."

Harry honestly wasn't quite sure where this confession was coming from. He held no grudge against Ron for leaving during the war. All of them recognized that a large part of the rage that had come from the youngest male Weasley stemmed from the necklace. They hadn't blamed him for that.

"You may have forgiven me but I haven't." Ron ran a hand through his hair. "How many other times have I nearly screwed up with our friendship in the past? There are a number of examples I could give you but I really don't think I could stomach it right now. Besides, you're family, Harry," he said with a fierce renewed determination. "You forgive family for their indiscretions like you've forgiven me in the past, for their idiocy. If your own family can't forgive you, then who can? Look at Percy. You think we had an easy time forgiving him? Hell no."

His face darkened and Harry knew that Percy's past wrongdoings still bothered Ron very much indeed. "There are days I want to hex him for being that snobby, pigheaded, ambitious prick and for putting Mum and Dad through all that unnecessary hell. It's maddening thinking about it, so I try not to. But we got through it all. We got past it and forgave him. He's family. Same goes for you. Look, I'm not saying that I'm thrilled with how things happened.

"I hate that you two went behind my back and it still makes me see red if I think about it too long. But I think we can get past this. I'll need a little time to wrap my head around it, but I think I'll get there. You just need to stop beating yourself up indefinitely over it. It was fun for a while, now it's time to move on. You're one of us, Potter. I'm afraid you're stuck with us."

"Well said for a speckled git," a deep voice said from behind. Harry and Ron turned to find George standing behind them in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. "Don't get me wrong, I still think you're a tosser for leaving us the way you did and you can expect to find nice surprises from me littered throughout your house and maybe your office as well." He walked over to the bin holding the bread rolls and bit into one, talking with his mouth full of food. "Like this midget said, though, you're stuck with us and whether I like it or not I have another puny brother I have to deal with."

While Harry didn't exactly trust having George standing this close to him, he had to admit that he felt better knowing he'd just been given an acceptance of sorts. "Thanks."

"Now don't get too comfortable with yourself, Potter. You're not quite off the hook."

Harry's lips twitched and he folded his arms, peering at George. "And how exactly do I get off the hook?"

His answer was a devilish grin that made Harry want to weep like a baby and cry for mercy. He knew George well enough to know that he was about to be headed for rough waters. George made for the doorway again and Harry reached for his drink he'd been nursing for hours. "Sure you want to drink that?" Harry peered inside his glass, wary all of a sudden. It had been fine earlier. "Happy chatting boys," he said with a wide grin and exited through the archway.

Ron was grinning like a Cheshire cat before he finally burst out laughing. "Oh man, you know he's going to screw with you for a good long while now, don't you? You're his new guinea pig."

"At least he's talking to me," he said with a careless shrug. "I'll be his guinea pig for a year to get things back on track again."

"Don't let him hear you say that ever, or he'll milk it for all it's worth."

Harry chuckled and used his wand to get a new drink since he definitely didn't trust his current one. The two of them sat in a companionable silence, putting Harry at ease. It didn't last long, though.

"So," Ron started, his voice nervous, "there's something I should probably tell you." Harry's heartbeat kicked up a notch. He knew this tone in Ron's voice, knew that this conversation would, without a doubt, be centered around Hermione.

This was it. This was where he would have to suck it up and go back to pretending to be happy for his best mate. He'd nearly tossed his friendship down the drain once. He wouldn't do it again. If Ron and Hermione wanted to be together, then Harry would find a way to be happy for them and let her go. Obviously he wasn't meant to be with her. "Hermione and I, well, we talked and—what's wrong with you?"

"What are you talking about?"

His friend eyed him strangely, studying him far too intently for Harry's liking. "You have this fake smile on your face that looks like it actually hurts. Seriously, I'm in pain just seeing it and not just because it's your face that it's on."

"Ha, ha," he said dryly.

"I'm serious, what's the matter with you?" Ron's own facial expression suddenly turned furious, leaving Harry baffled. "Come with me." He grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him off the chair, dragging him out the door, ignoring the perplexed looks on everybody's faces.

When they got outside, Harry yanked his arm out of Ron's grip. "What are you doing?"

Before answering, he did a silencing charm around them, which Harry supposed was probably for the best if they were going to exchange words and judging by how livid Ron looked, they were going to.

"Good, now that that nosy lot won't be able to intrude, let's get a few things out in the clear. We're never going to be friends again, not the way we used to be, if you do this whole fake happy thing that you just pulled in there. You thought I was going to tell you that Hermione and I were getting back together, didn't you?"

Harry looked away from Ron. He couldn't tell him that the idea of him and Hermione getting back together made him want to spew.

"You were just going to sit back and let your misery build like you did last time, weren't you? Well screw that!" Ron was shouting so loudly that his face was actually turning red. "Stop trying to extract yourself from us, mate! What we do affects you, too, so quit being so damn self-sacrificing. If it's going to make you unhappy, then bloody say so!"

He let out a bitter laugh and crossed his arms. "Right, because that wouldn't make you resent me."

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Ron groaned, "I think you get off being a martyr or something. Can't be happy unless you're sacrificing something, is that it?"

Harry ignored that bit. He could see why people would think that, but he wouldn't bother justifying himself to his best mate. "Ron, you know it's true. Can you honestly tell me that if I said I had a problem with you getting back with Hermione, you wouldn't be a little bitter about the fact?"

Ron released a frustrated scream. "You're not listening! Forget about me for just a second. Take the fact that we've been friends out since our first year of school out of the equation and just admit it already! Last night, you wanted to kill me for offering Hermione a place to stay. You wanted her at Grimmauld Place with you, even though you were still angry with her."

"She's free to stay with whomever she wants to."

"STOP! Enough with the lying." He took a deep breath, shook his head. "I thought we said no more lies. I thought we said that from now on, we were going to be one hundred percent truthful with each other if we had any hopes of getting our friendship back on track. We said that, didn't we, or did I just imagine that?" Harry said nothing, knowing Ron had a point. "Then admit to me that you still want her. Say it right now. I may not want to hear it, but it needs to be said so let's get this over with."

For a moment, the only thing to be heard was the sound of their heavy breathing. Harry shut his eyes, wishing he could say that no, he didn't want Hermione, and mean it. He couldn't help it though. He never stopped wanting her—not for a single second that he'd been away. He would probably always want her, always love her. Need her.

Out of everybody, she was the one person that he could count on for anything, the one constant in his life. Even when she sent him away after their one shared night of passion, he knew that if he ever needed her, she would be there in a heartbeat. She was his person and it took him five years to realize it.

His throat tightened as he recalled her words to him six years ago, remembered as she said them even with the tears streaming down her face . . . _"I'll go with you."_

She would never know how much it meant to him that she'd have faced down anything with him, even if it meant her own death. He hadn't realized back then exactly what the funny feeling in his chest was, hadn't recognized the deeper affection, the deeper feelings. He'd had other things on his mind at the time, like facing his certain death.

His eyes fluttered open and he looked at Ron, their gaze locking, an understanding passing between them. "I love her," he said simply. "I'll always want her. It's not just that, though, Ron."

"That's what I thought."

"It doesn't matter what I want. She doesn't want me back, not that way."

He remembered her question when they'd still been in Greece, if they would ever be friends again. She hadn't asked if they had a chance at a relationship, no. She'd wanted friendship.

The words hurt to admit aloud. That was such a large reason why he was prepared to ignore everything again. He would rather ignore it then have to deal with that sting he knew would never go away. She would always choose Ron, whether it was because it was what was expected of her or if it was her true desire, he didn't know.

But her reasoning didn't make her decision less painful. He swallowed. "I think she's made that perfectly clear."

"You really are thick," Ron said. "Do you want to know what Hermione and I talked about last night?"

No he didn't want to know, especially not if it meant that he would have to hear about his friends getting a happily ever after.

Ron didn't wait for an answer. "We talked about you, you dolt. What else did you think we would talk about?"

"Me?"

The redhead threw his hands in the air and made a strangling motion with his hands. "Yes, you! Does it really surprise you? Did you really think she and I wouldn't talk about what you told me? We're still friends, Harry. It's not like it used to be and I know she and I get into fights at the drop of a hat and she still has an uncanny ability to drive me barking mad, but we still tell each other everything."

Harry instinctively knew that his skin paled. He was quite sure all the color washed away from his face. He wasn't quite sure what he expected, but it wasn't that Hermione would divulge every detail to Ron. "She talked to you about . . ."

"No! No, no, no. _No_," he said, shaking his head. His eyes were closed and he was covering his ears. If Harry weren't feeling so dumbfounded, he probably would have laughed. "Never that. There is such a thing as crossing the line with too much information. I was talking more along the lines of why she did it, of where it leaves all of us now that the truth is out in the open." Ron took another shaky breath. "Hermione and I, well, we've decided we're officially not trying again. We've agreed we're better off as friends. We both love each other, just not enough."

"I'm not quite sure what you want me to say to that." Was he supposed to say he was sorry when, in fact, part of him was jumping for joy, a very large part? It felt like he would be lying if he tried to offer soothing words.

"You don't need to say anything. I just wanted to let you know, so that you can . . ehm . . . well I can't say that part of me won't be jealous and that I won't act like a jealous idiot, but can you blame me? Hermione's a good catch."

He raised a dark eyebrow at his best mate. That sounded nice in theory, but he wasn't quite sure that he bought it. While it was great that Ron admitted he would be jealous, Harry knew that could be problematic. Ron had always been a jealous person, which Harry honestly couldn't blame him. With all the attention he had to compete for, with always being outdone by his brothers and even his sister, it made sense to Harry.

All of this and more was why Harry couldn't see that Ron was so easily giving his 'blessing'. "And you'll just be magically okay if she and I happen to work things out? You can sit there and tell me that you won't resent me?"

"I'm not saying that it won't be awkward." Harry snorted at the understatement. "Okay, it will be majorly awkward," he admitted.

"Thank you. Yes it will be."

"And I'm not saying that part of me won't hate it . . . and you . . . just the tiniest bit. I'm not that noble. But there's no sense in all of us being miserable, is there? Besides, it's not like I don't go out on dates and things like that. I admit that she's a good catch, but I'm hardly pining after Hermione. It would be stupid for you two to suffer as some sick sort of punishment. It's over and done and you can't un-have sex with her. Just know that I'm expecting some really nice birthday and Christmas presents for many, many years."

Harry's lips twitched, despite himself. "Noted."

"I also have one requirement if things do work out. If and when you and Hermione decide to stop being stupid about this whole thing, please keep the snogging to a minimum. At least until you introduce me to your nanny friend," he finished with a big grin.

The mention of Kate brought Harry crashing back into reality. He should have heard from her by now. She would have responded to his owl because she knew he would be worrying if he didn't get a reply back.

He couldn't believe he hadn't thought about that. The entire night his thoughts had been one huge ball of distraction. With so many things going on, Kate hadn't crossed mind before now. And it had taken Ron mentioning her to bring him back to reality.

A frown must have shown on his face because Ron tilted his head to the side, curious. "What's wrong?"

"We need to go back to New York," Harry said abruptly, not even noticing how easily he'd used the pronoun 'we'. It seemed it didn't take long to slip back into old habits. "I need to check on Kate and Ted."

"But we were just there," Ron protested. "Why didn't you do it before we left for Greece?"

While responsibility dictated that Kate's should have been his first stop, Harry hadn't been able to bring himself to do it, despite the itching need to wrap his arms around Teddy.

His weakness for his godson had kept him from checking in on them. He'd known it would be far too difficult to leave again if he saw Teddy, even for a few minutes. However, if he'd known that Kate believed she was being followed, he'd have been there in a heartbeat. He should have gone over there the moment he'd gotten her owl.

How much of a worthless cad was he? He rubbed a hand over his face and silently cursed himself for being thoughtless. "Because I'm a bloody idiot, that's why. Come on."

Harry moved quickly back to the house and prepared to tell Mrs. Weasley that he needed to leave for a bit. It was going to be a touch conversation, he was sure, but hopefully she would understand that he wasn't leaving this time and not coming back.

"Wait," Ron said, his voice hesitant. Harry paused and turned back to look at him. "What if . . . could we maybe tell Hermione and have her come with us?" Harry said nothing and stood there in stunned silence. It wasn't that the thought hadn't occurred to him to invite Hermione along. He just hadn't wanted to actually go through with asking her. Seeing Harry's hesitation prompted Ron to speak quickly. "It's just that we only just now got her back. If we keep this from her, it will likely put a huge halt in any progress we've been making."

They'd been making progress? That was funny since Harry couldn't tell.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," he said slowly. "Things are still kind of rocky between us. I mean you saw what happened in the kitchen. She wanted to tear my eyes out."

"And how would her coming with us to New York make things worse?"

Harry thought about it and he supposed Ron had a point. The only thing that was in true danger of suffering was his pride. He sighed. "All right, then. Let's tell Hermione that we're going to New York."

Ron grinned and reached over to ruffle Harry's hair. "Just like old times."

His overly tall best friend made a mad dash for the house, leaving Harry standing there already questioning his decision. Was this wise? He wasn't sure it was but he supposed he didn't have much choice in the matter.

He sighed and made his way into the kitchen. He got angry with himself when his heartbeat kicked up a notch at the sight of Hermione standing there, listening intently to what Ron was saying. This was not fair. Why was she so unaffected? Why could she stand there and not care that he was standing right behind her?

As if she felt his gaze on her back, she turned slowly and gave him a small, tentative smile. "We're going to New York, then?"

"You're coming?" he asked stupidly. He knew Ron was going to ask her, but he honestly hadn't expected her to say that she would come.

Her smile faltered and Ron glared at him. "I mean I thought I was. Ron said—"

"Sorry," he said quickly. "I guess I'm just not used to a lot of company anymore. It's going to take me a little while to become acclimated with everything again."

He was surprised that it was actually the truth. For the longest time, it was just him and Ted and occasionally Kate. Sure, he saw Oliver and his teammates, but that was mostly at work. Being surrounded by so many people again was proving to be a little overwhelming.

Ron gave him a pointed stare and Harry realized that he was going to have to bite the proverbial bullet and extend the invitation himself now that he completely muddled everything.

He took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. Merlin, he felt like he was in Hogwarts trying to ask Cho on a date for the first time. His palms were actually sweating. He'd faced down countless Death Eaters and he couldn't face the idea of inviting the woman he was in love with to come check on his godson with him?

He shook his head at himself. _Get a grip, Potter. Man up._

"I want you to come with us, Hermione. If you want to, that is. I mean—"

"Yes," she said, surprisingly quickly. "Yes, I want to come."

A knot that Harry hadn't realized was settled firmly in his chest slowly untied itself. It was strange how much relief five words could bring.

"All right, then. Let's go."

The smile that she gave him was almost worth all the troubles they'd been through since his return. It was strange what one smile that he'd missed so much could do for him. He felt . . . hope.

His eyes locked with Ron for a moment and though Harry didn't know why, all he did know was that he needed to talk with Hermione before they left. He was tired of the elephant in the room. And though they hadn't been best friends in years, the connection still seemed to be there—Ron got it.

Because in the next breath, Ron cleared his throat. "Right. I'm going to just go see my niece before we have to head out."

Hermione looked panicked. "Ron—"

"See you two in a bit. Try not to kill each other."

Ron left the room and suddenly he was very much alone with Hermione. Silence overcame the room and he was acutely aware that Hermione was looking everywhere but at him. He let out a frustrated sigh. He was tired of this. If he couldn't have her, he at least wanted his friend back. He missed her too much.

It was painful that he would never be more than a friend to her, but if that was all he could have, he would have to take it.

She gave him a weak smile, still not meeting him in the eye. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier about your past in New York. It was out of line and I shouldn't have said anything."

He released a breath and nodded. "Apology accepted." The apology helped, though it wasn't exactly necessary. He'd expected the questions and the confusion from his friends when they found out. He hadn't wanted them to discover that part of him, but he'd known that it was only a matter of time before they did. It was better that it was all out in the open now, anyway.

Harry walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She tensed under his touch and he saw her breathing kick up a notch. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

"We need to talk."

"I . . ." she backed away from him, her cheeks flushed. His face must have betrayed him because she finally looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry, I just need the space. I can't think properly when you're this close to me."

His lips parted at the admission. That was news to him. She always seemed so bloody unaffected by him. It was part of why he was so frustrated with everything. "Look . . ." he started awkwardly and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I hate that we're not talking. I hate that we _can't_. It's completely ripping me apart, Hermione."

She stood there for a moment, not saying anything. "But you're the one who's been so angry with me! I thought I was doing what you wanted by staying away from you!"

"What?" he barked out. "You thought I _wanted_ you to go with Ron? Are you mental?"

Her cheeks flushed again. "You would barely look at me the night we got back and went to Grimmauld Place! What was I supposed to think? Of course I went with Ron."

Harry winced. "I was mad at you—I am mad. Do you not understand that you took my future out of my hands Hermione?" He thought of his life before the war, before he knew that part of Voldemort was inside of him. He thought about the fact that his life had been mapped out without him knowing it, that he'd been allowed to live long enough so he could die at the proper moment.

He supposed he understood why it was done the way it was done, but that didn't make him like it. He never thought his friends would take important decisions out of his hands, least of all Hermione. "I've had enough people doing that to me in my life. I didn't think I had to worry about it from the woman that I was going to fight to be with!"

Tears welled in her eyes. "I know that you would have fought for me, Harry. That's why I did it. That's why I _could_ do it." She sniffled a little bit. "I guess it gave me the strength that I needed knowing how much you cared. But Harry, please. I was there since the first year—I saw you go through all the ups and downs with Ron. Do you think that I wanted to be the reason that you lost your best friend . . . your brother?"

Harry paused for a moment. How was it that he had never considered that particular angle before now? Why was it that he'd never thought about it from her perspective?

He swallowed roughly. Hermione continued before he could say anything. "I knew when I decided to do it that there would be consequences. How could there not be? But Harry what we did . . . it was wrong. We were both in the wrong. No matter how good it felt at the time," she finished in a whisper.

There it was. The elephant.

But Harry had to argue with her on one point. "Right," he corrected.

She glanced up at him with a befuddled expression on her face. "What?"

Harry moved closer to her, following her as she backed away from him. When she was trapped against the wall, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face. Her breath hitched and he couldn't stop his own pulse from kicking up a notch. "You said no matter how good it felt. I disagree."

"Oh?" she squeaked out.

"It didn't just feel good, Hermione. It was right—no matter how wrong it was." Her lips parted as if she were going to say something, but he didn't let her. "We haven't been the best with communication, but I think that it's time for that to come to an end. You should know that I would have done anything, given up anything and everything to be with you. Hermione, you know that wasn't just a fling for me."

Her eyes flickered shut and a single tear streamed down her cheek. "I know."

He swallowed and braced himself for an answer he might not like for his next question. "Was it for you?"

A beat of silence passed and Harry's heart thundered erratically in his chest. Whatever she said next would be the truth. She wouldn't lie to him a second time. He was sure of it.

"No. You know that, too, Harry. You always knew I was lying."

He nodded, surprised that it was the truth. Perhaps deep down, part of him always knew that she'd been lying and he'd simply used it as the excuse he'd needed to run away. He'd felt so suffocated back then, so stifled that not even Hermione had been able to help him. If anything, his feelings for her had made it all worse.

The timing hadn't been right.

Ron popped back in the kitchen and Harry slowly backed away from Hermione, frustrated with everything. "Right, then," Ron said cheerfully. "Are we ready?"

And now, standing there in the Weasley's kitchen, the only family he'd ever really known, he had to ask himself . . . would it ever be?

* * *

Thanks for the ongoing interest! I can't believe this still had any reviews going for it. LOL.

I'm going to try to stay as focused on this as I possibly can. I've been watching the Potter films and it's been inspiring me to write. So hopefully the inspiration sticks.

Chapter 14 still needs to be completely written, unfortunately. However, with as well as things have been going, I'm aiming to have it finished within a week or two. That being said, it may not happen, as you are all well aware how awful I am with updating. Plus with work and such, it's really hit and miss with finding writing time. But I'm determined, so my fingers are crossed.

Hope you all enjoy the chapter!


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